The Immoral Grail
by Rosannapuppies
Summary: The Immoral Grail is set five years after the Mortal Instruments series, what happens after they get married and how they struggle through Clary's premature pregnancy. PS: Sorry about not posting for a while, I've been caught up with writing the sequel to this book. Leave reviews about what you like, don't like or any suggestions. Thanks :) (The sequel name- Immoral Grail- Camelot)
1. Prologue

New York, 2015

 **Prologue**

Abraham wondered if he should call. Max had been leaving him voice mails every hour and some of them were so romantic and apologetic that they made Abraham wonder if he should call him back but the angry, shouting voice mails he received five seconds later reminded him why they had broken up. _Why_ _**he**_ _had broken up with_ _ **Max**_ _._

Shoving his phone deep into his pocket, Abraham trudged down the street, pushing his wet hair off his forehead as rain poured down onto the streets of New York. Passing a mundane bar, he snorted with exasperation as an attractive girl with short blonde hair called out to him, batting her long fake eyelashes. She was wasting her time. However, like most young werewolves, Abraham was quite attractive, his muscular body and his light brown hair blending nicely, his eyes a golden green colour, making them stand out in a crowd of mundanes. Max had been a vampire and Abraham had been a fool to even think that their relationship could work. _A stupid fool, an idiot._ Suddenly, he felt his phone vibrating somewhere inside his pocket. Abraham pulled it out to cancel the call when he stopped in his tracks. This new voicemail was different.

" _Abraham, run before they get you, before_ he _gets you. 'The. . . The Righteous Children' found us out. One of them's following you. Run before it's too late. Run before they_ kill _you-"_ Max's voice was suddenly cut off, a loud gurgling sound and a loud thump followed before the phone went silent. Abraham's hand went to his heart as a loud pounding sound filled his ears, drowning out the world around him. Suddenly, he felt a chilling sensation, making him shudder. _He was being watched_.

Glancing behind him, Abraham saw a tall man, covered in a simple glamour, wearing tight black clothes and a floor-long cape with a hood that covered his face completely, leaning casually against the window of a shop, staring straight at him. Pulling his jacket's hood up, Abraham began to walk quickly down the dark street as panic pulsed through him, his eyes shining brighter than ever. Pushing past an old man, he glanced behind him again. The man was still following him, taking long, leisurely steps, as if he knew that he would kill him, no matter where he went. Changing into a run, Abraham sprinted down the street, his werewolf speed making it harder for the mundanes to see him, turning sharply down an alley, past someone's house and down to the very end where. . . Abraham stopped dead still as he desperately pounded his fists on the brick wall in front of him. All of a sudden, he froze, a cold creeping over him and chilling him right down to his veins. The sound of footsteps, loud and menacing, sounded down near the mouth of the alleyway. Turning on his heel, Abraham saw the dark man glaring at him. Glancing around wildly, he felt like a cornered animal as long claws grew out from his fingers, cutting into his palms as he scrunched them up into fists. The man was coming closer, and closer, slowly pulling out a silver sword that had been sheathed on his back, the hilt encrusted with diamonds.

 _This is the end_ , thought Abraham, backing up against the wall as the man directed the sword at him, shying away from the silver. "Who are you?" he yelled out suddenly, desperate to know something. The man, not moving his sword, slowly lifted up a hand, pulling his hood back. His face was a slender oval shape, the eyebrows thick and furrowed and lined with golden eyelashes, the chin covered in a thick golden beard. The only thing that shocked Abraham were his _eyes_. The outer side of the iris' was a very human, very dark blue colour but a thick line of red, like blazing fire, surrounded the inner edge, contrasting with the blue. " _And they called unto Lot, and said unto him, Where are the men which came in to thee this night? Bring them out unto us, that we may know them._ I am Sir Lancelot, Leader of The Immoral Grail. You have been found wrong in our eyes, for your sins against nature. Enjoy your afterlife, Werewolf," hissed Lancelot, thrusting his arm forward and piercing Abraham's stomach, the tip of his sword coming out through his spine. He tumbled to his knees, leaning against the wall as blood pulsed out of his body and spilled on the cobbled streets. For a moment, Abraham thought he saw Max standing in front of him, smiling down at him and ruffling his hair.

" _Come with me Abraham,_ He's _waiting for us."_

Lancelot kicked aside Abraham's hand in disgust as he withdrew his sword from his body. Whipping out a knife, he quickly carved something into his palm. Pulling up his hood, he slowly turned and walked out of the alley, grinning cruelly. " _Ego introducturus sum vos in hunc mundum uno gradu propius ad magistrum."_


	2. Chapter 1

**In tournament or tilt**

Clary sighed as she gazed out the tall window, leaning against the cool glass. It had been a week since they had arrived in Idris on their honeymoon but Clary already missed New York. Gazing out into the green grass below her, she smiled dreamily, remembering her wedding day.

 _Heart pounding, she walked down the aisle, led towards a wildly grinning Jace by Luke, who was also grinning. Behind Jace stood Alec, while Simon and Isabelle sat in the front row. Taking a deep breath, Clary relaxed as the scent of the Institute, mixed with a pang of flowers filled her body. After what seemed an age, they finally reached the altar. Feeling Luke's warm hand slide out of hers, she turned to face Jace. Looking up into his eyes, Clary saw that they were shining a bright golden colour, his hair trimmed neatly and the small blonde scraggly chin-hairs shaved off. She smiled nervously, wondering if this was really happening to her, what this would-_

" _Having second thoughts?" asked Jace, his lips brushing her ear. Clary forced herself not to shiver. "No, of course not." Even though his voice had been light and cheerful, his eyes were searching, as if they were frowning. "Then what is it?" he inquired, taking her hand gently into his. As usual, his skin was smooth and hot. This time, Clary couldn't stop herself from shivering. "I just can't believe this is happening. It's like….a fairytale," she breathed, smiling in spite of her nerves. Jace's eyes immediately cleared and he silently turned to face Maryse, giving Clary's hand a little squeeze. "Do you, Jace Herondale, take Clarissa Fray as your wife?" asked Maryse, her face solemn. Jace answered without a moment's hesitation. "I do." Maryse turned to face Clary. "And do you, Clarissa Fray take Jace Herondale to be your husband?" Clary grinned, glancing at Jace, who nervously awaited her answer, still squeezing her hand tightly. "I do." His grip relaxed slightly. "Then by the power invested in me and in the Clave, I pronounce you husband and wife," announced Maryse, pulling out her stele and tracing a rune on Clary's arm, then chest._

 _Now that she was used to the Marks, Clary felt no pain at all, just happiness as she gazed up into her husband's eyes. Silently, Maryse moved on to Jace, marking him in the exact same places. He turned to face Clary, taking up her other hand and looking deeply into her eyes. Seeing his face, Clary felt the connection between them growing stronger, filling her with even more joy until she felt like her heart was going to burst._

 _Taking a step back, Maryse's face suddenly broke into a smile. "You may now kiss the bride." Slowly, Clary watched as Jace's hands lifted up to the white veil covering her face, gently lifting it over her head. A beam of sunshine hit her in the eyes before it was blocked out by Jace's face, as he slowly leaned closer. She met his lips with hers, not putting up a resistance as he kneaded them gently into his. He trailed his arms up her back, pulling her closer to him, as if he was afraid she would vanish unless he held her. Twirling a strand of his golden hair through her fingers, Clary wished that she had gotten Valentine's silver-blonde hair. "Clary. Clary Wayland," he whispered against her lips, brushing her back. Suddenly, they were interrupted by a loud cheer. Clary, feeling herself flush, jumped back, embarrassed, while Jace turned to the crowd, grinning casually but Clary knew that his heart was beating just as fast as hers; she had heard it beating against her chest._

" _Husband and wife 'til…"_

" _Death do us apart."_

"Clary? Are you there?" called a familiar voice, bringing Clary sharply back to the library in which she was sitting. Smiling to herself, she pulled the velvet curtains surrounding her forward, hiding herself into the corner of the window seat. She giggled quietly as the sound of familiar footsteps rapidly approached the library door. "Clary! Are you there? _Clarissa!_ " She frowned. Jace had never called her Clarissa before. Suddenly, before she could reply, she heard the library door fly open with a loud bang. "Where is she?" she heard Jace ask himself, his breathing ragged. Immediately, an image flashed across her mind. Jace, his face pale and stricken, running through the house while she sat behind these curtains giggling. A sharp flash of guilt shot through her. "Clarissa!" he cried, his voice now sounding more frustrated than worried. Standing up, she pulled the curtain aside. "I'm here Jace."

"I can see that." The image of him running around the room, searching immediately fell from her mind. Jace, his golden hair sweeping in front of his eyes, was casually leaning against the doorframe, his posture relaxed. Clary rolled her eyes. "Trust you to pretend you're _actually_ worried about your darling wife," she said, walking over to him. "Well, I know that you love only me and all the exits and doors are locked so I'm sure you wouldn't be able to get away from me," he joked, taking her outstretched hand. Clary smiled. "I wouldn't be so sure," she breathed gently. He pulled her to him and she felt Jace's shoulders tighten. His eyes darted all over her face. "I would die to keep you safe," he whispered, hugging her tightly. Clary's smile widened. "Then you must've already died a thousand times." Jace pulled her even closer, his hands holding on to her back tightly. Knowing what would happen next, Clary relaxed, rubbing her hands along his shoulders as he kissed her, gently then more urgently, his hands beginning to move towards the hem of her blouse. She grinned against his lips, pressing into him. Suddenly, he spun her around, leaning her into the door, pressing her body against it. Clary moved into him and felt surprised at him pushing her harder against the door, his lips urgent and their kisses passionate. Draping her arms over his neck, Clary pulled herself up, standing on her tiptoes. Unexpectedly, Jace pulled her into his arms, carrying her out of the library, their kisses broken off so that he could see where he was going. As she leaned her head against his chest, Clary heard his heart pounding at the same speed as hers, forever in the same rhythm.

After what could've been an hour or two minutes, Jace opened the bedroom door, bursting through it. Clary felt the arm gripping her legs drop as he scrabbled around behind his back, locking the door. Closing her eyes, she felt Jace carry her across the room and dropping her onto their soft bed, the silk sheets sliding underneath her. For a moment there was quiet, only the sound of swishing material breaking the silence. Suddenly, Clary felt Jace standing over her, his shadow looming above her. Opening her eyes, she saw him bending down towards her, shirtless, in his boxers and grinning. Closing her eyes again, she felt the hot touch of his lips on her neck, shoulders and waist. Her pulse immediately quickened and Clary felt her body relax in his hold. "Clary?" he asked her. "Are you okay with this?" Hearing the concerned note in his voice, Clary opened her eyes. She saw Jace's face, inches from her own, peering down at her with a worried look in his eyes. She smiled. "Jace, I have never felt better," she whispered against his lips.

"How do you feel?" Jace asked his wife, brushing a strand of red hair off her temples, propped up on his side next to her. Clary sighed happily, curling up into a ball, moving her head into his shoulder. Her pulse had slowed but the feeling of exhilaration and wonderful happiness had stayed, filling every inch of her body. "Like I did when we got married," she told him, pulling the sheets up around her chest. Smirking, Jace rolled over on top of her in one swift movement, pinning her down. "Well, I don't know about you but I remember _everything_ that happened on our wedding day. All the details. Do you?" he asked her, sliding his fingers behind her back and rubbing small circles. Clary arched, grinning at the memory. "I will never tell our children how ungentlemanly their father is," she joked. Jace frowned. "Do you want children?" he asked her, pushing himself up so that he was straddling her hips. Clary gazed up at him. "Yes, do you?" she asked, answering his question with her own. He smiled thoughtfully, absently tracing a finger down from her mouth to her collarbone then to her chest and finally to her stomach. Clary shivered and she felt Jace's hold on her hips loosen. "Yes, I do," he said finally, the hand behind her back pulling her up towards his face. "How many?" she asked, gazing into his golden eyes. Jace shrugged. "Two. A girl," he began, kissing her neck. "And a boy," he finished, kissing her chest. Clary moaned involuntarily, arching her neck as Jace lowered her back into the sheets, going down with her.

"How's Alec?" asked Clary, coming out of the shower, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. "He's at Taki's right now with Isabelle," Jace told her, quickly sitting up as she walked over to the bed. She pulled her sketch-pad over and flipped through it, looking for her best picture; Sebastian sitting astride a black horse with fire blazing from it's eyes and dressed in spiky black armour. It was gone. Clary looked up at Jace. "Have you seen where my picture went? The one where I drew…..Sebastian as an evil prince?" she asked him. He shrugged. "No, I haven't," he replied simply, his face blank, finishing the buttons on his shirt and getting up from the bed. Clary watched him, suspiciously as he crossed the room and unlocked the door. Just before he was about to leave, Jace turned in the doorway and grinned at her. "Meet me in the gardens." And then he was gone, the door closed behind him. Clary frowned and tracing a rune on her arms, she began to put on her Shadowhunter gear.

Silently, she moved through the gardens surrounding their honeymoon manor, her leather making it comfortable for her to walk. Clary stopped at the edge of a huge lake, gazing up at the slowly setting sun before jumping off the riverbank and beginning to plummet down towards the murky water. She grinned as she heard the sound of wood beneath her feet when she landed on the small flat piece of wood that had been floating underneath her. Drawing out her daggers, Clary waited until she had floated out to the middle of the lake before doing anything. Not moving from her position, she opened her lips and whistled a long, high note, her eyes constantly moving, searching the water surrounding her. Suddenly, before she had even seen it, Clary sensed the ripples forming around her, steadily moving closer towards the board until they were only a few feet away. Lifting her hand, she saw the black cold eyes of a fresh-water crocodile staring up at her malevolently. Bracing herself, she waited until the crocodiles had began to climb up onto the wooden board before raising her foot and bringing it down on top of a crocodile's head. She felt it thrashing underneath her and in one swift movement, she ended it's pain, kicking out at another as it moved towards her. Suddenly, she felt sharp claws on her back and ducking down, avoided the sharp crocodile teeth by inches. Rather than feeling scared Clary grinned, adrenaline filling every part of her. Drawing her arm back, she shoved it off her, stabbing it midway as it fell. Spinning on her boot heels, Clary glanced wildly around before putting away her _kindjals_ and pulling out her stele as the board slowly brought her back towards the riverbank. Stepping out onto the grass, Clary realised how dark it had grown. Taking out her witchlight, she directed it onto her arms, tracing _iratzes_ on the places where the crocodile's claws had ripped her gear. Putting the stele back in behind her belt, Clary started back towards the house to change.

 _I wonder what Jace is doing,"_ Clary asked herself, examining her closet with scrutiny. _Probably messaging Izzy. Or Alec, maybe Simon. Definitely not Raphael_ , she thought, discarding her black suit, which she only wore on special occasions. _I wish I was like Isabelle. Tall, tanned, dark-haired and able to use her beauty to her advantage_ , wished Clary, picking out a silky pastel-green dress with long lace sleeves. Walking into the bathroom, she locked the door behind her in case Jace decided to check why she hadn't come. Slipping off her gear, Clary looked at herself in the mirror, making sure that everything was okay. Since the whole stress of wedding arrangements had been relieved from her, Clary noticed that for once her eyes didn't have dark shadows underneath them. Quickly brushing her red hair out of the way, Clary pulled on her dress, unlocking the bathroom door and leaving the bedroom. Walking down the corridors, Clary thought, not for the first time, if there were any secret servants here to serve their every need, since everything was always spotless and the food was always ready for them. Passing the hallway table, Clary saw a photo propped up on the lace cloth covering the polished mahogany wood of the table. Picking up the photo, Clary felt a sharp pang in her chest; it was their wedding photo. Jace, grinning wildly, had his arm around her, looking extremely graceful and somehow casual in his black tuxedo. Clary's dress was golden, covered in shimmering golden sequins, her hair and makeup done by Isabelle, a transparent golden veil floating down her back. Behind them stood Simon, his brown hair combed to perfection, smiling happily while Isabelle looked like she was having a giggling fit, her eyes slightly crossed over, already drunk. _I miss them so much, but this is where I am happy. Truly happy._

Magnus breathed nervously, as stood in front of the Herondale Manor, raking a hand through his hair. _Should he be asking Jace for help, or trying to figure things out by himself? After all, Jace was a married man, he would know how to go about this._ A small voice inside his head kept bugging him, telling him to turn around while it wasn't too late, before he had shown his vulnerabilities. Unconsciously, he took a step back before shaking himself and firmly knocked on the door.

"Magnus! I thought you were in New York, with Alec. Is something wrong?" Clary questioned him, her brow furrowed. He shrugged, trying to pull off a casual look. "I came to speak with Jace. How are you guys doing?" Clary grinned happily, but Magnus saw that she wasn't completely convinced that he was fine. "We're great. Come on in, I was just going to go find Jace myself. He's somewhere in the gardens," explained Clary, walking off down the hallway, Magnus following her nervously, twisting his hands together. As he walked through the long hallways, Magnus looked around him, taking in the bright cream wallpaper, the soft carpets and the mahogany tables, brushing a hand lightly over the lace coverings.

Clary lead him through a set of white French doors, which opened up to a gravelly pathway, lined with tall, green hedges. At the very end of the pathway was a marble fountain, with the statue of a group of herons in the centre, water pouring from each of their open beaks. On the other side of the fountain there was bright light, illuminating everything around them. The moon was hanging high above Idris, casting the garden into long shadows, making Magnus gaze around him suspiciously before gaining control of his nervous. He remotely heard Clary say something to him, but he was too tense and nervous to pay attention. _What if, while I'm here in Idris, something happens to him, or to us? What if, when I ask, the answer's no? Jace should be able to help, he should-_

"Hello? Earth to Magnus!" cried Clary, waving a hand in front of his face. He jumped in surprise and blinked. "What?" She laughed. "I asked, why did you come? Is something wrong with you and Alec?"

Magnus shook his head, once again raking a hand through his even-more-than-usually-messy hair. "No, it's….you'll understand later," he told her, speeding up the pace as they neared the light. "That's probably Jace. What on Earth is he doin-"

Just as Clary spoke, Jace stepped around the edge of the fountain, grinning widely with his arms outstretched to them as they approached. "Clary, welcome to date night. Magnus, you may join but if we begin our love-making, then you will have to find something for yourself to do _inside_ the house," greeted Jace, taking hold of Clary's hand, and gesturing to the picnic basket, lying on top of a huge checkered blanket, candles balanced inside the basket while a large feast of chicken parmesan, pasta and pizza lay spread out on top. Clary glanced around in surprise. "Is this a date, Jace?" drawled Magnus, trying to cover up his nervousness. Jace rolled his eyes. "I would rather Clary asked me but yes, if you must pry. Pasta?" he offered, lying on his side. Magnus shook his head, his hands in his lap. "Magnus has come to talk to you about Alec. At least I think that's what it is. You don't mind me hearing, do you?" Clary asked him, concern once again furrowing her brow. He shook his head. "In fact, it's better if I ask the two of you. Jace, how did you ask Clary to marry you?" Jace immediately raised an eyebrow. "You're planning on asking Alec to marry you?" he inquired, while Clary sat on her knees, not touching her pizza slice. Magnus nodded, aware of how vulnerable he was right now.

"I am."

Isabelle smiled, watching Simon, jump from beam to beam, high up in the rafters above the gym floor where they did their training. He was graceful, and quick, pouncing onto the beams and swiftly moving on to the next one. After many training days, he had finally got the hang of it. "You okay up there?" she called to him, trying to keep him in sight. Simon nodded, almost imperceptibly as he plunged down his arms above his head like a professional diver. Even though he had done this many times now, each time scared the life out of her; even now, she tried not to shut her eyes as Simon's face quickly came closer to hers, and suddenly jerk to a stop as the rope around his waist pulled tight with a quiet _ziing!_ "Are you okay, Simon?" Isabelle asked him, his face inches from hers. He grinned reaching up and cupping her face with his warm hands. "Stop worrying Izzy. I'm fine, see? No deadly wounds although, if I am devastatingly injured, I would like _you_ to nurse me back to full health, rather than one of the Silent Brothers," he joked, posing on his side in mid-air. Isabelle smirked. "Yeah, totally. Looks like I'm gonna have to do my best to make sure you don't get injured."

Simon smiled gently, and a second later he was standing next to her, the rope hanging loosely in the air. "You're getting good." Isabelle grinned even wider. "Almost as good as Jace." Simon blinked in shock. "What? _Me_? Almost as good as Jace? God I must've improved,' he smirked, evidently pleased with himself. "Well, let's get going then, shall we? Catarina's expecting us soon, remember?" began Isabelle, turning to leave. With a tinkling sound from the buckles on his boots, Simon dashed in front of Isabelle, quickly pulling her into his arms. "Then again, I think these powers have several uses. Would you like me to show you?" he asked her, his face now centimetres from hers. Isabelle smiled playfully as she traced his jawline and his very handsome nose, the most familiar things in the world. "Not now. Later," she told him, kissing him quickly on the cheek, turning in his arms to make her way to the door. Suddenly, she was facing Simon again, his lips pressing into hers, opening them, his tongue gently stroking the roof of her mouth, his hands tangling in her long black hair. Isabelle smiled against his lips as she pressed her body to his, her hands holding on to his broad shoulders. With an effort, she pulled herself away from him and she could sense the slight hurt in his eyes. "What?"

Isabelle smiled again. "I've gotta go get changed and I'd love you to come with me, but it'll only slow us down, and Catarina doesn't like people being late," she told him, practically skipping out of the room, laughing gently at Simon's mock indignation.

Catarina Loss's apartment was nothing like the one Magnus owned, sparkly, ever-changing, usually full of colours and remarkably different and outstanding, while Catarina's was large but cramped with many books and papers, the furniture always the same couchs and pouffes, the walls a boring blue-grey colour. In fact, the most common colour throughout the whole colour scheme were different shades of blue and grey. Isabelle squeezed Simon's hand as they knocked on the apartment door. It was opened instantaneously, accompanied by the sound of what could've been faerie bells.

"Simon!" cried Catarina, smiling brightly, looking quite stunning in a red sparkly dress which clashed interestingly with her sapphire-blue skin. Simon grinned back. Catarina's smiled faded slightly and became more forced as she turned to her, her voice disguising irritation and- maybe -amusement. "Isabelle. How great to see you. Come in guys." Isabelle forced a polite smile as she took off her coat and hung it on the rack. "Is Magnus here?" she asked Catarina. "No, he's gone to Idris, perhaps to visit the Herondales," Catarina told her, and Isabelle thought she saw her eyes light up at the mention of Magnus. "Take a seat, drink something. Meet some people," Catarina said, gesturing to the small crowd of people gathered inside the living room, sitting on the couches, all chatting away contentedly. Simon turned to say something to her but she had already melted away. He made to face Isabelle and found her gazing up at him with confusion. "What?" he asked her, not able to understand why she was looking at him like that. She shook her head, quickly flashing him a smile. "Nothing. You look good tonight though." Simon gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Not as beautiful as you though." And indeed, Isabelle did look look beautiful, wearing a diagonally cut chiffon dress, her whip tucked into the leather weapons belt that hung loosely across her hips, her black hair in a purposefully messy braid. She smiled and Simon was surprised to see that it was a shy smile. "Thanks. Oh look, it's Kaelie!" she cried, waving excitedly. Kaelie smiled pleasantly, her blue eyes wider than usual. "Hi Isabelle, Simon! How are you?" she asked them, coming closer. "Great, how about you? How's the Seelie Court?" Izzy asked her, examining her face closely. Kaelie looked paler and thinner and her forehead not as smooth as it normally was but she grinned happily and waved a hand. "The Seelie Court is fine. Of course, the terms were quite harsh but I understand the mistrust." Simon saw the flash of anger and

hurt in her eyes, despite the friendly smile. Before he could ask her anything else, Kaelie shrugged and walked away, her rippling dress shimmering. "I bet you she isn't as half as okay as she appears to be," he breathed, pulling Isabelle closer to him. She slowly draped an arm around his neck, picking up a drink from the nearby table. "You know what?" she began, taking a large gulp of wine. Suddenly Isabelle's eyes crossed over and the corners of her mouth twitched in a wild grin. "I think I looooove you!" she exclaimed, giggling loudly before collapsing in his hands, the wine glass shattered on the floor.


	3. Chapter 2

**From Camelot, there**

"So, let me get this straight. _You_ want _my_ advice on how to propose to Alec? Really?" Jace asked incredulously. Clary couldn't believe it either. Why would _Magnus_ need help? "Well, you are his _parabatai_ after all. You and Clary and Isabelle and Simon; all of you have known him for longer than I have," muttered Magnus, and Clary realised this was probably killing him, having to show his vulnerable side. Jace grinned, his arm slipping around Clary, who sighed happily. "Firstly, never stammer, unless it's part of your appeal. Second of all, even if you have practised a thousand times, make it sound as natural as you possibly can. Tell him you love him and that you would give anything to spend your entire life- well in this case, _Alec's_ entire life, by his side. Finally, don't pressure them, hold back your emotions until they say they have agreed. Just follow those steps and you'll end up married for sure," concluded Jace, brushing a strand of red hair out of Clary's eyes. Magnus studied him silently. "That's it? Anything else?" he checked, standing up. "Nothing else. Where are you going?" Jace asked him. Magnus suddenly broke into a grin. "I'm going to make myself scarce before you two start making love to each other."

Just as he was about to leave, Clary ran up to him. "Magnus. Tell Simon and Mom, and Luke that I miss them, I miss everyone," she said to him, hugging Magnus tightly before turning back to the picnic, leaving him standing in the middle of the pathway, with a dazed look on his face. "Magnus, did you really come all the way to Idris just to speak with us?" Jace asked him, before he left. Magnus shook his head. "Actually, no. I came to pick up the ring but then I decided to come speak with you. Seeya," he called, disappearing into the shadows. Jace grinned. "Warms your heart, doesn't it?" he joked, smiling down at Clary, who snuggled closer. "Do _you_ remember the day I proposed to you?" Jace asked her, letting her head fall into his lap. Clary nodded. "It was and still is, the best thing that has ever happened to me. I remember it so clearly; the big lake, you on one knee saying you love me, the diamond ring. Look, I'm still wearing it," she said, showing him her hand. "You missed out on so many details Clary, my wifey," he murmured, leaning in close. She blinked. " _Wifey_?" she asked him incredulously. "I was checking to see how it sounds. No?" he inquired, laughing at her reaction. Clary shook her head firmly. " _Absolutely not!_ " "Well, when we're older, can I call you my missus?" Jace asked her, his face inches from hers. "Maybe, but not in front of my family, or the kids. It'll make me sound older than I'd like to be thought of," she joked, pressing her lips gently against his. Jace drew back a little, surveying her lovingly. "You will never grow old in my eyes," he whispered, one of his hands behind her back and the other cupping her chin. "Then I'll have to be satisfied with you," she replied, her lips brushing his cheek. He immediately retaliated by pressing his mouth to her jawline, her throat and finally her collarbone. "I suggest we go inside," he hinted, beginning to rise. Clary gestured to the food. "And what about this." Jace shrugged mysteriously. "It'll be taken care of." She raised an eyebrow dubiously but Jace had already lifted her off the picnic blanket and started to carry her down the path. Clary struggled for a moment before falling back against his chest. "You really have to stop carrying me everywhere Jace! I can walk on my own!" she protested, not moving from her comfortable position. Jace beamed down at her. "This is the last time for this year, okay?" Clary considered it. "Fine, I allow you to carry me, hubby," she replied, flinging her head back dramatically. Jace chuckled. "I'm a hubby now, huh?"

Clary shrieked as she felt Jace twirl her in his arms and she found herself dangling rather ungraciously over his shoulder. "Jace! Put me down!" she cried, pushing herself up on his shoulders. "No, for I have captured you fair maiden, and will treat you how I please!" grinned Jace, assuming a deep gravelly voice as they entered the house. Clary dropped herself back on his shoulders, rolling her eyes in exasperation and propping her chin up with her hand. "Play along Clary," Jace called over his shoulder. She sighed before replying. "Oh please no, merciful master! I am an innocent young maiden and you have _obviously_ knocked out my protector. I beg you of mercy!" she muttered as Jace walked up the stairs. "And I shall give you none! You are my prisoner and I will take you to my bed chamber where I shall cut off your maidenhead." Clary frowned. "Cut off my _maidenhead_?" she asked him worriedly, trying to face him. "Your virginity," Jace grinned, opening the bedroom door. She rolled her eyes again. "If you haven't forgotten, my virginity has already been cut off, by _you_."

"Well, it hasn't been cut off by Lord Edinburgh. Yet."

"Lord _Edinburgh_? Seriously?"

"Spur of the moment," announced Jace, locking the bedroom door behind them. Clary shook her head in amusement as she slid off Jace's shoulders. "Well, _Lord Edinburgh,_ at least let me go to the bathroom first," she said, moving off to the bathroom, leaving Jace in the middle of the bedroom.

When she returned, Clary found Jace lying on the bed, his shirt and pants crumpled on the floor. She grinned, leaning against the bathroom doorframe. "Lord Edinburgh, what stops me from running away right now?" she inquired, taking off her shoes. Jace flexed his muscles. "Well, I see you are taking off your shoes, but also, I am too fast for you. So come and join me, my _wifey_ ," he murmured, watching her as she took off her dress before lying down in the covers next to him. In an instant, Jace had her in his arms. "Why did you ask me if we wanted children? Are you worried?" Clary asked him as Jace slowly kissed her throat, maddening her. He shook his head. "No, of course not. I just wanted to know what you thought about it. Are you sure you want children? I wouldn't be able to bare to see you in so much pain Clary," he told her, weaving a hand through her curls. She smiled. "Don't worry, I'll live and we will have many more kids. Many more Herondales, smaller versions of you and me," she breathed into his ear. Jace smiled gently. "I like the sound of that," he whispered, sliding a hand down onto her hip, where he held her tightly. "Lord Edinburgh has decided to spare you and will not chop off your head afterwards," declared Jace. Clary snorted in exasperation. "Thanks," she muttered, rubbing her hands on his back. Jace immediately slid a hand behind her bra, where he slowly and carefully undid her bra clasp. Clary sighed in relief as she felt the tight bra come off, feeling less constricted. "I feel so much better," she told him as Jace quickly began to kiss her stomach, pushing a soft groan from inside her.


	4. Chapter 3

**Beneath a world-old yew-tree, darkening**

The next morning Clary woke up early and immediately felt her stomach rumbling loudly. As the contents of yesterday's dinner made their way up her throat, Clary tumbled out of bed on to the softly carpeted floor. Kneeling on the ground, she clasped a hand over her mouth, trying to not throw up.

"Clary? Are you alright?" asked Jace, kneeling down next to her. She shook her head, unable to say anything. "Good God," he muttered, quickly snatching up a vase from their bedside table and placing it underneath Clary's mouth. As soon as she saw the vase, Clary opened her mouth and retched as last night's pizza and pasta poured out into the vase, filling the room with a unpleasant smell. Finally, left with nothing but stinging eyes and a disgusting taste in her mouth, Clary lay coughing loudly on the floor, curled up. "Stay here, I'll be back in a minute," said Jace, his calming voice filling her with a sense of safety. She heard him take the vase and hurry into the bathroom, flushing it's contents down the toilet. _What is wrong with me? Why do I throw up during the beginning of our_ honeymoon _? Probably from all our soppy romanticising_ , Clary thought to herself bitterly as Jace walked out of the bathroom and helped her back up onto the bed. "Are you feeling better Clary?" Jace asked her, the concern in his voice breaking her heart. "I'm fine," Clary told him through gritted teeth; her stomach still hurt and the faint feeling of nausea remained, even though there was nothing left to get rid of. He shook his head. "You're obviously not fine," Jace muttered quietly, tucking the covers in around her. "What happened to that food last night?" Clary asked him suddenly, feeling guilty of all that food being left to waste. "I took care of it," he told her, not looking Clary in the eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me? Remember, we work better as a team, so don't shut me out," she asked him gently, feeling her stomach lurch. Jace smiled reassuringly. "I would never keep secrets from you," he murmured. Clary tried to smile back but instead burped loudly. "Very impressive," Jace said in amusement. She flushed bright red and quickly got out of bed. "What is it? Is something wrong again?" Jace asked her, sitting up quickly. Clary shook her head. "It's nothing, I just need to go bathroom." Entering the bathroom, Clary locked the door behind her before promptly throwing up again into the toilet.

Alec frowned as he watched Brother Enoch draw a rune on Isabelle's upper arm. "And you have no idea as to what happened?" he asked Simon who was standing next to him, his eyes red from lack of sleep. "No idea, she just collapsed and told me she loved me," Simon told him, running a hand through his hair. Alec shrugged. "She was obviously poisoned, but how and with what?" _I believe that it was a large and nearly fatal dose of some sort of drug_ , interjected Brother Enoch, moving from Isabelle's bed at the Infirmary. "Drug? Do faeries do drugs?" Simon asked, coming up beside Isabelle. "What do the Fair Folk have to do with this?" Alec asked him. Simon frowned. "Before Isabelle fainted, we had talked to Kaelie for long enough for her to have slipped something in Isabelle's glass. It wasn't even Isabelle's glass; I'm pretty sure it was Kaelie's, even though she left it untouched," Simon recalled, brushing a hair off her forehead. Alec shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they do. Was it a drug that mundanes use?" he asked Brother Enoch. _No, this is some sort of magical drug that mundanes couldn't possibly use, or else they die twitching and shaking. However, it didn't kill Isabelle, though she is in coma. I'll try to reach her but I need time to prepare the spell, otherwise I might not be able to save her._ "Yikes," muttered Simon, shuddering involuntarily. "How soon will you be able to tell what drug it is exactly?" Alec inquired, standing on Isabelle's other side. _I've managed to extract a small amount from her blood but I'll need to send the sample back to the Silent City before I can test it_ , Brother Enoch told them, slipping a small glass vial filled with a red liquid into his pocket and leaving the Infirmary. "While we wait to find out what it was, maybe we should pay Kaelie a visit?" Simon asked Alec, getting up from his seat. Alec grinned. "Sure, but let me do the talking. I've known her for longer than you have." "But _I_ am the most charming after all," replied Simon, grabbing up his stele from the bedside table. Alec shook his head. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Simon Lewis."

As the Portal swirled in front of him, Simon glanced back at Isabelle, her pale face contrasting sharply with her jet-black hair, which lay scattered on the pillow. Her usually red lips were a soft, almost blue, pink and he could see everyone single one of her veins, standing out like a river of blood. He silently cursed whoever it was that poisoned her and promised himself something.

 _I will find them, and when I do, I will kill the person who made Isabelle suffer._

The Seelie Court was unusually empty but Alec could hear the faint sound of what could've been violin music. They waited in silence for the Portal to close behind them before moving forward. "Remind me Simon, what were you doing over at Catarina's anyway?" Alec asked him, pushing away a curtain of flowers covering an arched doorway. "She was having a housewarming party since she'd just moved from Los Angeles to New York. Do you think this is an unrespectable event for Isabelle to attend with me?" Simon inquired coolly, looking around at the empty hall. The walls were made of a pale pink marble, the ceiling an array of bright green ivy. "Where is that bloody music coming from?" Alec muttered in frustration. Simon shrugged. "I actually kinda like it." Alec shot him a withering look. "I think she's through there. Wish we'd gotten an audience with her first though," he said to himself, walking up to another curtain, this time made of a shimmering fabric than could've been water. "No time for that Alec, Isabelle's life could depend on it," said Simon firmly, pushing through the fabric and into the room behind it. The violin music had been faint before but now, as they entered the room, it suddenly exploded onto them and Alec quickly slapped his hands to his ears. The throne room, as it turned out, was filled with faeries, all dancing wildly, their pretty hair streaming out behind them while Kaelie reclined on a couch, wearing a pale pink tunic, her hair elegantly pinned up. The minute Alec and Simon entered, the loud violin music ceased and all the faerie dancers were surveying them closely. Simon slowly lowered his hands and grinned charmingly. "Hi Kaelie, sorry that we couldn't arrange a hearing but this is a very, very urgent and important matter. Can we speak to you in private?" he requested, gesturing to himself and Alec. Kaelie nodded silently and waited until all the dancers had left the throne room before speaking. "What is it that's this urgent, Shadowhunters for you to disturb my relaxation?" Kaelie asked them, her voice light but evidently covering her outrage. Alec bowed. "My sister, Isabelle, has fallen into a coma and might die if the Silent Brothers can't find a cure and to find a cure, they have to find out what the drug was and we thought that you might know," he informed Kaelie, who's eyes glittered dangerously. "A cure to what type of poison?" Simon shrugged. "A powerful drug that mundanes don't use. Can you help us? Did you see anything that evening at the party?" he inquired, keeping his tone polite. Kaelie raised an eyebrow. "I did not see anything but I might know the cure for this _drug_ if you fulfill a small favour for me," she bargained, her voice silky, a small smile playing across her lips. Alec frowned. "I thought you were different than the other queen," he protested indignantly. Kaelie examined her nails languidly. "That is not a matter which concerns you, Alec Lightwood. So, will you complete this small favour on my behalf, in order for me to give you the cure and identify this drug so as to save your sister, or will you walk away?" she asked them, not looking at them. Simon gave Alec a stern gaze before answering her. "What is this, _favour_?" Kaelie laughed lightly. "I would like you to send a….. _message_ to Catarina Loss. Tell her, ' _The rats are blind but the sun's rays will bring them sight._ ' Give her this as well," she instructed them, handing Simon a rose shaped pin from her hair. "And you will give us the cure only after we fulfil this favour?" Alec asked her cautiously. Kaelie nodded. "Until then, Shadowhunters. Ciao!" she called, waving them away dismissively. Alec waited until they were out of earshot behind the watery curtain before throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Was she like this last evening?" he asked Simon, making their way through the dance hall. He shook his head. "Nope. Completely different but, after all, this is her kingdom not the Clave's. So, do we go talk to Catarina now, or wait until tomorrow?" he asked Alec, taking out his stele and beginning to draw a Portal. "You go deliver the message while I tell Magnus what happened so that he can come back and help us figure out what happened. Okay? Meet up in the Infirmary when you're done. Tomorrow we'll go to speak with Kaelie again. See you at the Institute," Alec farewelled, stepping through the Portal and disappearing with the sound of a slamming door. Simon waited for a few seconds before starting to trudge up the park path.

Simon found himself standing in Catarina Loss' street after an hour of walking, the dawn throwing all of the apartment buildings lining the street into a soft yellow light. Stepping on to the curb, he walked up the narrow staircase, approaching the door of Apartment 9QI and firmly knocking on the door. It was instantly opened by Catarina, her skin a pale greyish-blue. She was wearing a bright pink sports singlet and purple leggings. "Hello Simon! How's Isabelle?" she asked him, gesturing towards the hallway. Simon frowned and shook his head. "Well, she's in coma and has been poisoned by some sort of deadly drug. The Faerie Queen has agreed to help the Silent Brothers find a cure and to identify the poison _if_ I pass on this message to you. So here I am; ' _The rats are blind but the sun's rays will bring them sight'_. She also asked me to give you this," he told her, handing over the rose-shaped hairpin. Catarina frowned, taking the pin. "I wonder why she said that?" she murmured to herself. Seeing Simon still standing on her doorstep, Catarina shook herself, as if trying to clear her head. "Is that all?" she asked him, her voice cheerful again. Too cheerful. Simon nodded. "Oh, and do you want me to pass anything onto Izzy? It might help her to wake up," he asked, his eyes hopeful. Catarina smiled widely and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Not at the moment, but I'll stop by the Institute and say some things to her. See you then!" she called, closing the door. Simon blinked before setting off back down the staircase.

When he was a few blocks away from the Institute, Simon suddenly got the feeling that he was being followed. Glancing behind him, he saw a young girl, her bright blue hair standing out in the crowd. Her eyes were a bright green colour and he saw a hidden blade slipped up her long sleeve. _A demon._ On sudden impulse, Simon turned down a dark alleyway and climbed up onto the roof a small motorcycle shed, lying down flat, a seraph blade in his hand. Simon awaited with baited breath as the demon entered the alley, the knife already in her hand. He waited until the demon was standing right underneath the shed before whispering " _Michael"_ and leaping down onto the demon, a battle cry sounding from his throat. With a loud thump, Simon landed on top of the demon-girl, pinning it to the floor. As it writhed beneath him, Simon raised his blade….and felt a hot pain across his face, warm blood dripping on his hands. Another blow caused Simon to be flung back with the force of a bear, hitting his head on the concrete floor. Yelling in rage, Simon threw himself back on top of the demon before it could stand up and quickly brought the knife down into it's chest. He felt the demon slow beneath him and then lie still before disappearing completely. Standing up, Simon brushed himself down before walking back out onto the street, his cheek stinging and black demon blood splashed all over his T-shirt.

 _Isabelle was walking through a cool, dark forest the faint sunlight blurred by the dark green leaves above her. Someone had dressed her in long, blood-red robes that swished silently around her legs. I feel so relaxed. But where's Simon? And Alec? What happened to me? Why am I here and not in the Institute? she thought, pushing through the bushes that seemed to melt away at her touch. Suddenly, the knife-sharp silence was ripped apart by the sound of a snapping twig. Looking behind her Isabelle thought she saw the corner of someone's robes whisk away behind a tall oak tree. Her hand instinctively went to her waist where she usually kept her whip, but it was gone. A bolt of panic shot through her but Isabelle pushed it to the back of her mind. "Who is there?" she called into the silence, not moving from her place. Isabelle tried not to look surprised as Brother Enoch slowly walked out into the forest clearing, his robes making a small rustling noise, which was unusual. "Where am I?" Isabelle asked him, relaxing her position. "This is the place where you sleep until we cure you or your time runs out," he told her, coming closer. Isabelle felt the back of her throat dry out. "I'm in coma?" He nodded. "How long have I got?" He hesitated before answering. "A month." Isabelle's heart squeezed tightly. "A month? What happened?" she asked Brother Enoch, her voice rising quickly. "You were poisoned by some powerful drug at Catarina Loss' party. It kills most but it has put you in a coma. You will eventually die but Simon and Alec have gone to ask the Seelie Queen for help. I myself am working on a cure." Isabelle relaxed a little. "Have you told Jace and Clary?" He shook his head. "I believe that Magnus will be far more welcome than me." And Isabelle had to agree with him; Brother Enoch would definitely not want to be there during their 'love-making'._

" _So why are you here?" For a moment, Isabelle thought that Brother Enoch was smiling at her. "I merely came to enlighten you on the situation and answer any questions you have. Also, I will visit you once a week to try and find a cure. Oh, and by the way, don't be alarmed if the scenery changes as you move further into it," he informed her, the amused tone in his voice surprising Isabelle. "Where are you going now?" she asked him as he walked past her. "Oh, I'm going to have a little stroll but, you might not be able to find me." A moment later, he was gone. Isabelle slowly moved forward and he attention was immediately caught by the sight before her. An enormous canyon, lined by huge rocks of many shapes and sizes, surrounded a crystal clear lake, the water a fluorescent blue colour and as Isabelle slowly approached it, she could clearly see the dark shapes of fish flitting gracefully in the water. All around the lake's edge and growing even on the surface, were small groups of electric blue flowers, their faint glow probably the source of the water's colour. Taking a step towards the lake, Isabelle began to take off her heavy clothes before quickly glancing around to make sure no one was there. Wouldn't want Brother Enoch to see me. Pervert._

 _Suddenly, Isabelle found herself standing an inch away from the water's edge, the fish suddenly growing bigger. Closing her eyes, she stepped forward, the cool water lapping up around her ankle and sending a shiver of pleasure through-out her body. As she stood ankle-deep in the water, Isabelle felt something scaly and cold slip past her feet and her eyes popped open. Staring down, she saw a dark, bulky fish, with huge fins and long white whiskers flitting near her feet. "What do you want?" she asked out loud and then immediately felt foolish for talking to a fish. As if it had heard her, the fish swam forward, almost luring her until Isabelle found herself up to her neck in water, the creatures flitting around her and the blue flowers far behind her, illuminating the water. It took her a few moments to be able to find the same fish again in amidst all of the rest but as she watched it, Isabelle tried not to cry out in horror as the fish suddenly turned it's head up to her, it's blank, white eyes glaring up at her, the skin on it's back suddenly flashing a bright silver. Seeing her startled eyes, what could've been a smile played across the fish's face and Isabelle heard a melodic, serene voice play through her head._

" _Come down under the water, Isabelle. Come down here so I may speak with you properly, since my powers are weak- weaker than usual. Will you join me?" the fish asked her, it's blind eyes still staring up at her. Isabelle nodded, too shocked for words before plunging her head down into the blue water._

 _It was cool and heavy, the water calming her. For a moment, Isabelle was disoriented by the mass of silky black hair swaying in front of her face. Pushing it out of the way, Isabelle found her face a few inches away from the fish, who's eyes were slowly turning a bright blue colour, then dark navy blue and finally black. They contrasted sharply with it's silver skin, instantly reminding her of Sebastian. Suddenly, Isabelle felt the air in her lungs, which had been slowly ebbing away, return, nearly overwhelming her. Not daring to breathe, Isabelle watched the fish-creature as another smile played across it's features. "Trust me child. I have given you the gift of breath while you are in my underwater domain. Trust me…" it whispered in her mind. Slowly, Isabelle opened her mouth and instead of instantly choking, like she had anticipated, she breathed in oxygen. Firmly closing her mouth, Isabelle continued breathing through her nose as she watched the fish-creature transform again, the fish face slowly changing into the face of a woman, high gaunt cheekbones, her silvery blonde hair floating out behind her and a circlet of silver and huge blue sapphires lining her head. The eyes remained a deep jet-black colour and she was wearing dark blue robes which seemed to rustle about her, not dampened by the heavy water. Isabelle tried not to shriek as the woman suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her deeper into the water, swimming quickly. When they had reached what was probably the centre of the lake, the woman let go of her and slowly turned to face Isabelle. "Who are you?" Isabelle asked her furiously, the words she spoke forming into bubbles that drifted before melting into the deep blue water. The fish weren't flitting around them any more but there were some large shadowy creatures swimming beneath them, near the bottom of the lake. "I am Nyneve. This is the Lake where King Arthur saw the Lady of the Lake for the first time and where she handed him the sword Excalibur. I was the Lady's maid until she died," Nyneve explained, her voice soft and serene. Isabelle frowned. "But King Arthur, the sword… they are all just a story." Nyneve smiled as she traced a hand through the water, leaving a trail of rainbow coloured bubbles behind her. "All stories have some truth in them. As does mine," and for a moment, Isabelle thought she saw sadness on her face. But it was quickly replaced with that calm, peaceful gaze. "Why are you here, in my dreams? I'm in a coma, aren't I?" Isabelle continued, glancing down at the darkness beneath them. "I have come to warn you. Those close to you, those you trust, will be your downfall and undoing. They shall stop at nothing to fulfill their plans which in the views of some are righteous and worthy of support," Nyneve told her silkily, smiling peacefully. Isabelle barely had time to think before everything began to grow dark, the shadowy depths of the lake rising to swallow her up._

" _Goodbye Isabelle Lightwood. Until we meet again."_


	5. Chapter 4

**Spring after spring, for half a hundred years**

Simon frowned as he entered the Institute, trying to find a logical explanation for why someone would send demons after him. Stepping into the elevator, he barely remembered to press the button before relapsing into his thoughts. _Maybe it had something to do with Kaelie? Or Camille? But why now? Why not try to kill me four years ago when I was a mundane? It's too unlikely that she decided to wait out until I was a fully trained Shadowhunter so that she could have a fair fight with me._ Suddenly, his attention was arrested by the sounds of voices coming from the Infirmary.

"-but why did she cry out?"

" _I don't know, I couldn't see her after she went."_

Simon pushed open the Infirmary door and found Alec, his hand protectively placed over Isabelle's while Brother Enoch stood silently at the foot of the bed.

"Hello. How's she doing?" Simon asked them, coming to sit down on the other side of Isabelle's head. Alec frowned. "We're not sure. She cried out a couple of times in her sleep. She also opened her eyes once but they were blank and she didn't try to communicate with us. Then she whispered something and I wrote it down. Here." Simon took the paper from Alec with hesitation and raised an eyebrow as he silently read the words. "' _Those close to you, those you trust, will be your downfall and undoing. They shall stop at nothing to fulfill their plans which in the views of some are righteous and worthy of support?_ ' Where did she get get that from?" Brother Enoch shrugged. " _We don't know."_

Simon's frown deepened. "Maybe it means that someone who isn't a Shadowhunter will betray us." "Like who?" Alec asked, rubbing a hand on his chin. Simon shrugged. "Perhaps the Fair Folk will betray us again? Or the vampires?" Alec shook his head. "Kaelie wouldn't betray us." Simon raised an eyebrow. "It's only been five years and the faeries will wait at least a century before taking their revenge. By the way, happened to you?" he interrupted himself, noticing Simon's gear for the first time. He shrugged. "I was attacked by a demon on the way back home." Alec gazed at him piercingly. "On the way back from Catarina's?" Simon nodded. "You don't think she has anything to do with it, do you?" he asked, jolting with realisation. Alec narrowed his eyes, his gaze flicking towards Isabelle. "Maybe, but until we find anything we have to wait and there's also Lily's vampires we could talk to." Simon sighed as they sat in silence for a few moments. "I wish Clary was here; however selfish that is, I wish she was here," he muttered, stroking a hair back from Isabelle's forehead. Alec nodded in agreement. "I wish they were both here, especially Magnus."

"Clary, are you sure you're fine? We could go check to see what's wrong," repeated Jace for the hundredth time that morning, his eyes full of concern. Clary smiled reassuringly, patting his cheek gently. "I'm fine Jace. I probably just ate too much food last night." She could tell that he wasn't satisfied by her answer but Clary didn't have enough strength to come up with a better excuse. "So, have you heard anything from Simon?" she asked him, quickly changing the subject. The frown didn't leave Jace's face. "Nope. I'm sure they don't want to ruin our honeymoon. I'm still going to make a appointment with a doctor. It could be something serious." Suddenly, something inside Clary snapped and before she could stop herself she was screaming at Jace. "I'M FINE, LEAVE ME ALONE." The moment those words left her mouth, Clary regretted it instantly, the anger inside her doused like a rogue flame. "Jace, I-" The look on his face stopped anything she was going to say. His eyes instantly cleared but the expression on his face was cold, if calm, and Clary couldn't help but shiver. "Okay. I've got to go check on the horses. I'll be in the stables if you need me." He left the room silently, leaving Clary to her breakfast.

" _Why did I say that? Stupid, stupid. And all he wanted was to make sure I was alright. I'm probably not. What if I'm pregnant and he'll only stay with me because of the child, like Lightwoods? What if-"_ Clary's thoughts were interrupted by the loud buzz of the doorbell.

"Coming!" she called, hurrying to the door, glad to be distracted from her miserable thoughts. Opening the door, Clary was surprised to see Magnus standing on the doorstep, his hair unusually neat. "Magnus? What are you doing here?" she asked him in surprise. He raised an eyebrow, a grin playing across his lips. "Well, those are hardly the words of welcome I expected but I'll overlook it today. I'm here because Alec contacted me and. . .," he trailed off uncertainly. Clary grabbed Magnus by the shoulders and shook him gently. "And what? Tell me Magnus, if something has happened then I need to know!" she said, trying to keep her voice level. He blinked a couple of times. "Calm down and I'll tell you. Izzy's been poisoned. Simon and Alec went to talk to Kaelie for a cure and she asked them for a favour and they split up. On the way back from the Institute, Simon got attacked by a demon," Magnus told her quickly, slurring it all into one long sentence. Clary frowned. "Izzy _poisoned_? Simon _attacked_? Is there any point in our leaving New York?" she asked, picking a jacket off the hook. "Oh, and congratulations on the baby," added Magnus, gesturing to her stomach. Clary stared at him. "What? You think I'm _pregnant_?" she asked him, her eyes wide with disbelief. He nodded. "How? Why do you think that?" Magnus shrugged. "Shadowhunters go to warlocks rather than hospitals to check if they're pregnant. I can sense it. Have you had your period yet?" Magnus asked suddenly. Clary flushed. "It's tomorrow," she muttered, pulling on the coat. He grinned. "Well, tomorrow you'll find out." Clary ignored him as she tucked a seraph blade into her weapons belt. "You'll find Jace in the stables," she told him, stepping out of the house into the cold morning air. Magnus frowned. "And where you going?" he asked as she began to walk down the street.

"I'm going to the Institute," she called back, stopping and beginning to draw a Portal with her stele. Clary didn't hear Magnus respond but she heard the door shut with a loud bang.

Stepping through the Portal, Clary's mind instantly pictured the Institute's Infirmary, Isabelle's pale face against the pillow and Simon lying next to her, his gear ripped apart and covered in black ichor. Suddenly she felt nauseous, more nauseous than usual, the breakfast she hadn't finished rising up her throat. _Where would all it go?_ Clary asked herself as she doubled over, the vomit flying past her and disappearing. _Probably land on someone's head_ , she thought bitterly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Glancing down at her stomach, Clary was startled to see her hand resting over her belly, which had grown a tiny bit. _Magnus had said she was pregnant but how did she know he wasn't lying?_

With a start, Clary felt her feet land on the hard library floor and as she regained her balance, she started to run forward, pushing open the door and bursting out into the hallway, tearing down the staircase and into the Infirmary. Simon was sitting by Isabelle's side, his eyes closed and his hand in hers while Alec sat slumped into an armchair in the corner, snoring gently. At the sound of Clary entering, Simon's eyes flew open and he stared at her in surprise. She winced noticing that his gear was ripped and covered in a lot of black ichor, mixed with some red fluid. _Blood. Simon's blood._ "Clary? What are you doing here? Where's Jace?" he whispered loudly. Her gazed flicked to Alec, making sure he was still asleep as she crept over to the bed, one hand still resting on her stomach. "Magnus told me what happened and so I came back. He'll be here soon with Jace as well. Meanwhile you can fill me in on the very few details that Magnus skipped. How are you and how's Isabelle?" she asked him quickly taking off her coat and coming to sit down next to Simon. He immediately leaned against her and Clary felt him sigh as he closed his eyes, relating to her the events of the past two days. "So you think Catarina might have something to do with this?" she asked him, her eyes never leaving Isabelle's face. Simon nodded silently. "And you want someone to keep an eye on her?" _I could be that someone._ Simon immediately understood what she was getting at. "No, Clary, you're not going to trail her. . . and besides, it might not be her, i-it could be Kaelie," he protested, lifting his head off her shoulder. She grinned, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Well, if I keep an eye on her, then we'll be sure it's not her. And besides, nothing will happen to me," Clary reassured him, trying to feel as confident as she sounded. Warlocks were tricky and Catarina was no exception. Simon slowly put his head back on her shoulder, throwing his hands up resignedly. "Whatever," he muttered closing his eyes. Just at that moment, the Infirmary doors flew open for the third or fourth time that day, Jace running into the room, followed by Magnus who immediately walked off to Alec who was sitting in the corner. "Clary? What are you doing here? It could be danger. . .," Jace broke off, seeing Simon beside her, head resting on her shoulder. She hastily stood up, taking hold of Isabelle's hand. "I know that it could be dangerous. That's why I'm here," Clary told him, trying to ignore the look of jealousy that had flashed across his face. Simon coughed as he hastily sat up and smiled. "Do you know what it was that poisoned her?" Jace asked, rounding on Magnus, who shook his head, gently shaking Alec awake. "Brother Enoch says it's some sort of powerful drug, and. . .," Simon faltered as Jace stared at him, his eyes flashing brightly. "Yes?" Jace asked him, his voice tight. Clary felt sorry for Simon to have to deal with Jace's anger. _Why's he taking it out on him anyway? It's not Simon's fault I shouted at him_ , she thought, trying her best to not defend Simon, as she knew that Jace would be even angrier if she did. "And he's taken a blood sample from Isabelle with him to try and find a cure. Kaelie has agreed to meet with us tomorrow to discuss it. And Clary, well she. . .," Simon paused, shooting Clary an uncertain look. She gave him a tiny nod, wincing inwardly at the expression on Jace's face. "Well, she, I told her that we suspected Catarina, Catarina Loss, might have something to do with this and Clary decided to be the one tracking her," Simon finished hastily, not daring to look at Jace's thunderous expression. When he finally spoke, Jace's voice was menacingly quiet. "Well, _Clary_ , are you interested in what _I_ think?" Out of the corner of her eye, Clary saw Magnus push Alec towards the door and she felt Simon moving away from her side, not wanting to see them fight. A moment later, Clary and Jace were alone with Isabelle. "Clary, you don't need to be here, I can take care of this myself. Go back to Idris and I'll be back there in an hour," he pleaded, taking a step towards her, all anger gone. Clary suddenly filled with anger again. Standing up from her chair, she glared at him. "Go _back_ to Idris? There's no need for me to be here? Jace, you know me better than that! This is Izzy we're talking about, she could d-" Clary stopped, the words hanging in the air between them, unspoken. _She could die_. Jace's suddenly shoulder suddenly drooped and he sank down into a chair beside her. "I do know you better than that. Which is why I'm not going to argue with you any further. Clary, I'm sorry!" Jace suddenly broke off, burying his face in her neck. She hugged him tightly, hiding her surprised about this sudden mood swing. "You did nothing wrong Jace, it's you right to worry about me. You're my husband. I'm the one who's sorry," she whispered into his hair, rubbing his back gently.

"I still don't think you should track Catarina yourself. What if something happens to you, or if it's not her?" Jace breathed into her neck, gripping her tighter. Clary sighed, pulling back to get a good view of his face. It was full of worry and concern. "If it's not her then nothing will happen to me, either way. Jace you need to trust me," she murmured, stroking his cheek gently. He nodded. "I still won't let you do this alone," he began, cutting off Clary's protests with his hand. "So I guess we'll keep an eye on her together," he finished, grinning. Clary smiled gently. "That sounds great," she murmured, remembering what Magnus had said to her. " _Tomorrow you'll find out."_ "Clary, are you okay? Do you need a bucket?" Jace asked her, touching her forehead with concern. She blushed and stood up quickly. "I'm alright Jace, just got a lot to think about _._ Stay here, I'll go find Mum. She probably wants to see me anyway and Magnus is going to break in here at any second," Clary told him, hurrying out of the room, using all her will and self-control to not look back at Jace.

Catarina Loss shivered as she glanced around at the gloomy houses surrounding her. The only interesting building in the vicinity was a large Downworlder club, the rough metal door heavily glamoured so that even mundanes who possessed the Sight could not see it. Pulling down her hood, she took a step towards the black door and knocked lightly on it four times. A window at the top of the door slid open and the round, green-yellow eyes werewolf eyes glared out at her. "ID," he growled, watching her shrewdly. Catarina quickly reach out and handed the werewolf a small, plastic card through the window. "Lancelot wanted me," she whispered, trying to control her body as it erupted in shivers again. With a small nod, the werewolf slid the window shut and the black door creaked loudly on it's hinges as it swung back, omitting her inside.

Stepping in, Catarina hastily pulled off her cloak and hung it up in the hooks. "Where is he?" she asked the doorman, a tall muscular man with long scars running down his arms. "Follow me," he told her, slowly entering the crowd that was filling the room. Glancing around, Catarina saw a tall woman, her hair bright pink, sitting cross-legged on a pouffe and smoking from some sort of cylindrical tube filled with a transparent grey liquid. Seeing Catarina staring at her, the woman flashed her a predatory smile and she saw that the woman's teeth were a horrifying blue colour. In the centre of the throng was a vampire couple, the man dressed in a black suit with red lapels while his partner wore a long, black dress with red spots, an enormous rose pinned behind her ear. They were tangoing elegantly and passionately, the necklace of human teeth around the female vampire's neck clattering against her chest. Gulping loudly, Catarina quickly made her way into the crowd, determined to not lose the doorman. She found him standing outside a booth, the doorway of which was covered in a red velvet curtain, hands behind his back and staring straight on ahead. Looking around to make sure nobody saw her, Catarian pushed through the curtain and entered the booth. It was dark, apart from two low lit lanterns that were on either side of the table, cemented into the walls, and a candelabra that stood in the middle of the table, all eight candles lit. A huge round table, made from a dark, rich wood, and a red leather couch lined the wall, curving with the table. Catarina froze in shock as she finally laid eyes on Lancelot. His beard was trimmed and his hair combed back, held down with a large amount of gel. A cruel smile played across his thin lips and the rings of red in his blue eyes stood out in the darkness, burning into her. "Catarina, long time no see," he said, his voice calm and controlled. She shivered again and slowly sat down next to him. "I know; eight centuries, in fact. How you've changed, Lancelot and not for the best," she replied, staring into the flames, her voice sad. "But that is not why I have called you here Catarina. I heard from the Seelie Queen that you have put the Shadowhunter, Isabelle Lightwood, into a coma. Are you able to contact her through it?" he asked, his voice silky smooth. Catarina hesitated. "You do still want Magnus Bane, don't you?" Lancelot asked her, turning to face her. At the mention of Magnus, Catarina's eyes lit up and she set her jaw, meeting Lancelot's gaze.

"Of course. What is it that I have to do?"

Lancelot's smile widened, showing his sharp, white teeth.

"Clary!" exclaimed Jocelyn, as Clary walked into the training room, running to hug her. "Mum! It's good to see you," she whispered, hugging her tightly. So, how have you been?" Clary grinned. "It's all great Mum and I've improved my fighting skills as well." Jocelyn frowned. "How?" she asked, squeezing Clary's hand. "By fighting crocodiles," Clary shrugged, still grinning wildly, her curls bobbing up and down every time she talked. Jocelyn laughed out loud. "Mum, I've got a question for you. . . do you think I'm pregnant?" Clary asked, her green eyes watching Jocelyn's face closely. She frowned and placed a hand on Clary's stomach, feeling it. Clary felt her stomach lurch as Jocelyn straightened up and stroked her chin. "Well?" she asked her, feeling an urge to grab her mother by the shoulders and shake her. "Well, you definitely are, but I don't understand why you're stomach has grown that much so quickly. Maybe we should ask Magnus?" Jocelyn said, examining her closely. Clary gulped. _Something's wrong_. "Is that bad Mum?" she asked her, fear spreading quickly throughout her body, numbing her brain. Jocelyn shook her head. "Not really, it's just. . . unusual."

For a moment there was silence, during which Clary imagined all the worst possible things happening to her and the baby while Jocelyn stood thinking, her eyes blank in thought. The quiet was broken by Church, who had pushed open the bedroom door and was meowing loudly. Clary jumped as he brushed his tail against her leg, startled from her thoughts. "So, do you know what happened to Isabelle?" she asked Jocelyn, her hand automatically resting on her stomach. Her mother shrugged. "Brother Enoch is working on a cure, but other than what Simon told us, no. Something else has come up though. I'm not sure if it's related to Isabelle but two bodies have been found in the past three days, stabbed to death; one of them was a vampire, the other a werewolf." Clary's eyes widened in surprise. _Even if this isn't related to the Isabelle in any way, it still sounds like a problem_. "Where did you say these bodies were found?" she asked her, moving towards the door. Jocelyn shook her head. "No, Clary, you can't go. The baby and- does Jace know?" Clary shook her head, stepping out into the corridor. "No, and I don't want you telling him until I'm ready." Jocelyn nodded in understanding, not looking at Clary.

"How have you and Luke been?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. Jocelyn smiled and shrugged. "Quite good actually. We haven't had time to go anywhere, but we're planning to go to Paris on a trip for a month."

Clary imagined her Mum and Luke taking photos at the Eiffel Tower, drinking hot chocolate where she had been with Sebastian. . .

She shivered, remembering the apartment, the club and how Jace had come back covered in Sister Magdalene's blood. Forcing a grin, Clary took out a slip of paper from her pocket.

"So where were they found?"

The street that Jocelyn had directed Clary to was dark and gloomy, the sky above her looking as if it was holding back a surge of thunder, lightning and rain, all in one. She shivered, remembering how the climate here in New York a lot colder than Idris. _It feels good to be back_. Breathing in the city air, Clary stepped into an alleyway to her left. The end of the alley was submerged in shadow and leading into those shadows was a trail of blood, bright red and shining in the gloomy light. _Blood. Werewolf blood,_ realised Clary with a jolt, following the trail into the dark. Passing by someone's house, she glanced up and saw a tall, dark man, his hair dark and his eyes a dark colour. Clary shivered slightly, and blinked. Looking back at the window, she saw that the man was gone, a blandly coloured curtain closing her view on the room inside. _What a creep_. Still shaken by the man's piercing gaze, Clary moved forward into the darkness, coming up into a brick wall. Looking down, at first there was nothing but dark shadows but pulling out her witchlight, she saw the body of a young man, his eyes closed, brown hair plastered to his forehead, a huge bloodstain covering his shirt and jacket, while underneath there was what presumable could be the sword-wound that had killed this poor boy. Squatting down, Clary immediately felt her now heavy stomach weigh her down. Breathing in deeply, she raised the witchlight to the boy's handsome face. A look fear, horror and desperation was paralyzed on his face, filling her with rage. _Who could have done this to a boy so young and defenceless?_ Lowering the witchlight to his hand, Clary saw long, brown claws protruding from his fingernails. _Definitely a werewolf, who was herded like a cow and killed. What's that?_ Looking down at his hand, she saw that one of them was covered in blood. Turning it over so that she could see his palm, Clary stared down at it in horror; someone had carved a single sentence into the boy's soft skin. ' _Et qui venturus est.'_ Clary knew enough Latin to understand what the words meant; ' _He is coming.'_ Dropping the boy's hand, she pulled herself up and glanced back the window where she had seen the man. He was still gone. _He could've seen what happened. I need to go talk to him_ , Clary steeled herself, approaching the back door of the grimy brick house. Knocking on the door, Clary thought she had seen the curtain move before growing still again. _Just my imagination playing tricks, it's just my imagination_. Suddenly, the door opened and Clary nearly screamed out in surprise.

"Whaddya want, Shadowhunter?" the man growled, the door open wide.

Up close, she could see that he was middle-aged, his dark skin not as smooth as it had seemed. The brown hair on his forehead was curled from sweat and his eyes were actually a dark purple colour. _A warlock_ , Clary realised, trying not to stare into his eyes. "I'm Clarissa Herondale, there's been a murder here. Did you see anything?" she asked him, copying Jace's mature tone which he used when they were hunting demons. He shook his head. "No, lady. I ain't seen nothin'. Now push off," said the warlock, beginning to close the door. Clary stuck out a foot, stopping the door from closing. "You could at least invite me inside, I still have some other questions for you," she said, raising an eyebrow. The man sighed in defeat and stepped aside. "Well, come in then. Five minutes, no more."

The house was almost as filthy on the inside as it was on the outside, a thick layer of grime and dust covering everything. The hallway was empty, the hard floorboards hard and grey. _Poor man, he's probably been abandoned by his family_ , sympathised Clary, feeling sorry for him. "Through 'ere," he grunted, leading her into a small, grey room, with no furniture other than two hardbacked chairs. The windows were closed and the light shut off by thick heavy curtains the colour of concrete. _Everything's so grey here_ , she thought, wondering how long he had managed to live like this. "Take a seat," gestured the man, his voice changing to a surprisingly polite tone. Clary tried not to show her surprise as she quickly sat down, focusing on the man. "I've told you my name, what's yours, warlock?" she asked him, not expecting a helpful answer. "My name's Archie Briggs," he replied, studying her shrewdly and Clary felt herself blush as his eyes went to her stomach. "Well, Briggs, a werewolf boy has been murdered outside your house. Did you see anything?" He snorted, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Of course I did, but why would I tell you that? I'm not so stupid to tell you about _him_ ," Briggs replied, his eyes now resting on Clary's face. She rolled her eyes. "You already mentioned who _he_ is, so you might as well tell me the rest. This could be important," she urged him, leaning forward intently. "I know that it's important but not to me. I believe it's just been five minutes, so ciao," he told her, giving her a little mocking wave. Clary gritted her teeth as she slowly stood up and left the room, making a note of the house address. Glancing up the street towards the mouth of the alley, Clary saw the silhouettes of two people, their figures outlined in the light. Quickly whipping out her stele and drawing a Hearing Rune, she pressed herself flat to the wall.

"We need to get rid of it before they find it."

"Where are we going to dump it? During daylight?"

" _He_ said to go to the Brooklyn Bridge. The glamour should be enough to make sure no mundanes see us. Let's go."

With a jolt of fear, Clary realised that they were walking down the alley towards the werewolf's body. Taking a dagger from her weapons belt, she crouched down into the shadows, waiting until the people were standing with their backs to her. They were wearing tight black clothes and their heads and faces were covered with large hoods. _Wish me luck. "Ithuriel_ ," she whispered, creeping forward silently. Drawing back her arm, she waited for them to be bending over the body, their backs exposed to her. Her heart beating fast, Clary threw the dagger forward and sent it flying straight into one of the men. He howled in pain, straightening up and clutching the place where the dagger had sunk into his back. Still crouched, Clary took out a shuriken star and with a flick of her wrist it began to fly towards the second man. However, he was gone and the shuriken clattered to the ground, landing beside the body of the dead man, blood pouring from his back and staining the ground a darker shade of red. Glancing up and down the alley, Clary remained in the shadows, not daring to move in case of danger. Suddenly, the sound of pattering feet startled Clary, and she saw the familiar silhouette that she would never mistake. "Jace!" she cried, straightening up. He raised a hand, bringing her to a stop. Silently she watched as Jace took a few steps forward, his hand positioned over his dagger hilt. A movement that was invisible to Clary caught his eye and without moving his position, he sent the dagger flying, like a beam of light, up onto the roofs. She took a step towards him and pulled back sharply as the body of a man, dressed in tight black clothes, flew past her and landed on the ground with a sickening crunch, the dagger still quivering in his spine. Bending down, she pulled the hood off his face.

His skin was an ash grey colour, his eyes a bright yellow colour, like hawk eyes. The tips of his fingers were curved into grotesque claws, the stubs of his fingers a sooty black colour. Letting go of his hood, Clary watched as he disappeared, leaving a dark stain on the concrete ground. "Demons. But who sent them?" Jace asked, coming up behind her and offering a hand to help her up. Clary quickly pulled herself up, trying to hide her growing stomach from Jace. "I don't know, but the man who lives in that house does. We just need to get it out of him," she told him, pointing up to the house where Briggs lived. "Come on, let's go before we get attacked by any more demons," muttered Jace, taking her by the elbow and steering her down the alleyway.

"How did you find me here anyway?" she asked him, climbing inside the cab he had managed to catch. He grinned, closing the door behind them and giving the driver their address. "Jocelyn told where I could find you. She also asked me what our plans on kids were." Clary stared at him in horror. "What?" she spluttered, leaning back onto the comfortable seats with relief. Jace's grin widened. "You sound surprised. Wanna hear what I said?" She nodded, too surprised to say anything. _Did Mum tell him anything? I told her not to! I told her!_ she panicked, her eyes growing darker. "I told her that you'd already asked me and we decided on two kids. Brunhilde and Bartholomew. What do you think?" he asked her, putting an arm around her. Clary let out a breath she had unconsciously been holding. Her body shook with laughter. "Not one of your most brilliant ideas, Jace." He peered down at her with confusion. "It's not that funny you know," he murmured gently, kissing her lightly on the lips. She smiled against his mouth and pulled back a little, brushing a lock of blonde hair off his forehead.

"I know that, which is why it's funny."

* * * _Isabelle found herself surrounded by darkness, swirling around her, silent and deadly. Glancing around, she saw a small beam of light shining out within the darkness, pulsing and rotating slowly. Reaching out towards it, Isabelle felt the tips of her fingers brush against it. The light was warm and as she kept her hold on it, she could feel the burn of it on her skin, burning her up in white flames. Shouting out in pain, Isabelle fell onto her knees, automatically clinging on to the light, eyes squeezed shut._

 _For a moment it faded and she found herself in darkness once more but opening her eyes, Isabelle saw that she was kneeling in the middle of a field, filled with purple and blue wildflowers. Glancing up, she was nearly blinded by the bright light of an enormous sun, shining in the bright blue sky. This time, she was wearing a long blue dress, with long sleeves slit down the middle and small blue flowers were weaved into her curls._

" _You must be Isabelle Lightwood. Am I correct?" Isabelle was brought sharply back to reality by a smooth calm voice, melodic and masculine. A tall, broad-shouldered man, his hair and beard golden. His eyes were blue, bright red circles surrounding each iris. The man's presence was overwhelming and wrung the life and energy from her the moment she looked into his eyes. Feeling as if he was mentally undressing her and burning her, Isabelle shivered and nodded silently._ " _Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lancelot DuLac, current leader of The Righteous Children. For now," he said, smiling unpleasantly. "Why are_ you _here? I don't even know you,"_ _she asked, managing to find her voice. He shrugged casually. "Well, you_ are _the Inquisitor's daughter and I know how to bring you out of this coma, if you agree to my terms," Lancelot offered her, hands in pockets. Isabelle looked at him with slight suspicion. "What are your terms?" she asked, trying to sound calm while her brain fought against her heart. Lancelot's offer was probably not something she would agree to normally but a small voice at the back of her brain, which was slowly growing louder, kept telling her that this was right and what she needed. "If I free you from this coma, you will instantly become a member of The Righteous Children and spy for me at the Institute, which I cannot enter. You will also be faster and more skilled than the best Shadowhunter in the world. Do you agree? I haven't got much time so make your decision quickly," said Lancelot silkily, buffing his nails against his shirt. Knowing this was wrong, knowing Jace and Clary would hate her for this, that Alec would be shattered, Isabelle nodded slowly. "I do." His smile widened, revealing sharp white teeth. "Sign this contract," he told her, handing her a sheet of thick parchment and a small X-Acto knife. Taking hold of the knife, Isabelle brushed it against her palm, immediately drawing blood, not feeling any pain. Placing her bleeding hand above the parchment, she watched as three drops of red blood dripped onto the parchment, and evaporating, leaving the contract unstained._

 _Lancelot quickly rolled up the parchment and shoved it into his pocket, the smile gone from his lips. "What did the contract say?" Isabelle asked him, her mind beginning to feel a little woozy, a sense of peace spreading through her. He looked up at her and when he spoke, she barely heard him, a buzz growing in her ears. "That you now belong to me for as long as I live and will do my bidding."_

Simon had been standing outside the Infirmary with Alec and Magnus, discussing the Seelie Court, when Clary had burst out into the corridor, her face flushed and hurried past them, climbing the stairs to the attic quickly. "What the-" began Simon but they were all distracted by a shout from the Infirmary. They all pushed open the door and saw Jace standing by Isabelle's bed, gripping her hand tightly, staring down at her with fear. "What's wrong?" Simon asked, running up to her bed. Jace glanced up at him as if he was going to take Isabelle away from him. "I don't know. She just cried out and then this appeared," he told them, showing Simon the cut on her palm. "Did. . . did she say anything?" Alec's face was pale and when he spoke his voice was hoarse. "She only kept saying Lancelot," said Jace, his gaze flicking to his _parabatai_. Simon felt a flicker of jealousy light up inside him. _Lancelot, probably a friend of Isabelle's._ Out loud he only shrugged and asked, "Who's Lancelot?" Magnus, who had remained silent so far, snorted. "You didn't read stories of the Knights of The Round Table when you were still mundane, did you?" he asked incredulously, staring at Simon like a rare type of disease. "No, I didn't. A bit too much 1800 century style but I have heard of King Arthur," replied Simon, trying not to smirk at Magnus' reaction. He sniffed, offended. "Well, Lancelot was King Arthur's right-hand man. Lancelot also had an affair with Arthur's wife, Queen Guinevere. He died, eventually, if the legends are true." Simon grinned. "All legends are true, especially Shadowhunter legends. How did he die?" Simon asked, brushing a hair off Isabelle's face, earning a glare from Jace and Alec. "I don't know and it doesn't say anywhere but why is he here? And how?" Magnus asked himself absent-mindedly. Alec frowned. "You knew him?" Alec asked him, placing a hand on Magnus' shoulder. "Yes, I was advisor to the King at that time and Lancelot along with all the other Knight of The Round Table were half warlock, half Nephilim. I wasn't there when he disappeared but I knew he had dreamed of the Holy Grail, and bringing it back to the court, presenting it to Guinevere." Magnus sighed sadly, rubbing Alec's hand. "Maybe he went after it and got killed?" Simon suggested, still gazing at Isabelle. It was strange to see her so frail and helpless when she had always been full of life, defiant and proud, now clinging onto Jace's hand, crying out in pain. Suddenly, he froze, searching her face keenly. "I've got to go find Clary, tell me if anything comes up, will you?" Jace called, unclutching Isabelle's hand and leaving the Infirmary, his footsteps echoing loudly through the corridor. Alec and Magnus called goodbye after him, closing the Infirmary doors. Simon ignored him, still gazing keenly at Isabelle's face. He had seen a flicker of life cross her face, and he had felt her pulse quicken. _She's awake_. "What is it Simon?" Magnus asked, seeing his expression. He shook his head, unsure if he had just imagined it or not. "I thought that. . . she had-," he faltered, still gazing at her when suddenly, Isabelle's eyes flew open. "Isabelle!" Simon exclaimed, his heart leaping with joy and relief. She smiled hazily, blinking up at him. "Simon! Alec, Magnus!" She said throatily as her brother and Magnus appeared by his side. For a moment, Simon hesitated. Isabelle's dark brown eyes were wide, wider than usual and there was a certain feeling of. . . resignation in her expression, as if she didn't care about what happened around her. "Isabelle! You're awake!" Alec cried, flinging his arms around her. "Where's Jace? And Clary?" she asked, getting out of the bed and slipping her feet into a pair of slippers. "Jace has went to get Clary, she's gone off somewhere. Where are you going?" Simon asked her suddenly, steadying Isabelle as she nearly tripped over. She was cool to the touch and Simon felt a slight pang as she gently freed herself from his grip and stumbled forward. "I-I need to go to my room, f-find some clothes," she muttered, pushing her way out of the Infirmary. Simon raised a hand to stop her but then thought better of it. _Something must've happened to her while she was in coma, something that had changed her. Perhaps Brother Enoch could help?_ He jumped At Alec's touch on his shoulder. "Come on Simon, we need to go to Kaelie now. It's nearly night time," he said, kissing Magnus goodbye. Storing his idea aside, Simon hurried to catch up with Alec, who was already in the hallway.

They had agreed to meet Kaelie in the Seelie Court but by the time they reached the park, it was an hour later than they had agreed on and Kaelie was sitting on a park bench, her legs crossed over in a lazy elegance. Simon remembered what she had been like as a young waitress at Takis, cute and shy. Since she had become Seelie Queen, Kaelie had matured, become more elegant and distant, her mind more calculating and the way she talked much more pronounced and educated. _More like the last Seelie Queen_. "You finally showed up," Kaelie drawled, raising an eyebrow as they sat down next to her. "Well, have you delivered my message to Catarina?" she asked, her impatience evident. Simon nodded. "We did, but now Isabelle's woken up, so we don't need you to find a cure. _However,_ we still need you to help us find out what it was that had been slipped into Isabelle's drink. Will you?" he asked, leaning back casually on the park bench, spreading out his arms. Kaelie smiled coolly. "A deal is a deal. I will help you find out what drug this is. In fact, I believe I already know. Alexonite, derived from Mercury, is a drug used by warlocks. Mundanes die if they take it but Nephilim or any Downworlder will merely feel ill and could possibly fall into a coma. Anything else?" Magnus frowned. "Did you say warlocks? I've never used it," he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Kaelie shrugged. "Use that information as you please, I am merely a messenger."

Simon felt a jolt of realisation as he thought of Catarina, getting up from the park bench. He turned to Kaelie but she was already gone.

"So Alexonite's used by warlocks?" Jocelyn asked as they sat at the kitchen table in Magnus' apartment, drinking coffee. 'They' meant Magnus, Clary, Jace and Alec. Simon and Isabelle were at the Institute. Magnus nodded. "I've never used it but Catarina specialises in more. . . alchemic magic than I do, so she probably uses this drug," he mused, running his finger around the rim of his spoon. "So how do we find out for sure if it's her?" Clary asked, placing her hand in Jace's. "Well, we could always ask her but if it must be complicated, then we could just sneak into her apartment and check if she has any vials with Alexonite in there? Which do you prefer?" suggested Jocelyn, taking a sip from her coffee, grinning. Jace pretended to be in deep thought. "I don't know, the second option sounds _much_ better. What do you think Clary? Would you fit through the bathroom window?" he joked, patting her hand. She blushed and tried to cover it up by staring down into her coffee cup. Magnus smirked. "Well, it might damage the baby if you do so I suggest we stick to the first option." Clary's heart stopped and she felt Jace's grip on her hand tighten. He didn't look at her but instead fixed Magnus with a defiant glare. Jocelyn nearly spat out her coffee, trying not to laugh out loud while Alec turned an alarming shade of purple spluttering loudly. _Really Magnus?_ thought Clary, glaring at him. _Really tactful_. Jace stuttered before shutting his mouth tight. Magnus' smirk widened. "Excellent idea. So, do we go there now or tomorrow?" Jocelyn asked, standing up. "Let's get this over with," sighed Jace, getting up from the table. Clary eased herself out of her chair, determinedly not looking at Magnus. _If I ever get the chance to, I will tell Magnus exactly what I think of him_ , she promised herself, climbing down the stairs from the apartment. "He's so tactful. Don't worry, we'll talk about this later," Jace muttered into her ear, wrapping an arm around her waist. Clary smiled ruefully as they stopped outside the doors opening into the street. "I've got to head back home and help Luke with the packing but I'll see you tomorrow," called Jocelyn, pushing the doors open and being instantly swallowed up by the crowd. Alec nodded. "I've got to go. . . meet someone," he said, blushing turning to quickly follow Jocelyn. Magnus raised an eyebrow, gazing after him suspiciously.

"So, where does Catarina live?" Jace asked Magnus, glancing up and down the street. He smiled mysteriously.

"Just follow me."

"Magnus! Jace, Clary!" exclaimed Catarina opening the door to her apartment. Clary thought she saw a flicker of annoyance cross her face as Catarina's gaze rested on her. She felt her face flush again as Catarina glanced down at her stomach, trying not to smirk. Jace squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Catarina, we need to talk to you," said Magnus, his voice serious. Jace glared at her stonily before gently pushing Clary through the door. She glanced up at him defiantly before entering the apartment.

The lights were dimly lit and the faint smell of chemicals hung in the air. There were books scattered around the rooms, stacked up high. "What is Magnus?" Catarina asked him, sitting down on a pouffe, her dark blue hair in a messy bun. He sighed sadly, looking at Jace and Clary for support. Clary sat down on the couch next to Magnus and tried to think of what to say, while Jace leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Catarina, did you put Alexonite into Isabelle's drink and then tell Kaelie to give it to her?" Clary asked, realising how tactless she sounded. Jace stared at her in astonishment before grinning slightly, his eyebrows raised. Magnus groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Catarina stared at Clary, blinking rapidly. "What?" she asked, her voice tight. "Y-you think _I_ poisoned Isabelle? Why?" "Did you, or did you not?" Jace questioned her, speaking before Clary could continue. Suddenly, the expression of bewilderment and surprise on Catarina's face changed to one of pure anger. "Alright! Yes, I put the Alexonite into Isabelle's glass! But I did it for _you_ Magnus! For _you_!" she shrieked, grabbing hold Magnus' hands, her eyes frantically searching his face. Clary's heart lurched, feeling pity for Catarina. _Poor woman, she clearly loves Magnus. She loves him and knows that he's lost to her._ Magnus stared at her. "For me? Catarina, what-" but she was already standing, pulling him up with her. Clary felt a sudden chill in the room and for a moment, the room darkened, blurring at the edges before swimming back into focus as she felt Jace's hand on her back. The air was cold and Catarina was standing in the centre of it with her eyes closed, holding onto Magnus' hands tightly, muttering something in a demonic language. He was desperately trying to pull her hands of his, murmuring a spell that seemed to be having no effect. Suddenly, Catarina's eyes opened; they were pure white, glowing brightly, the iris blending in completely with the rest of the eye. Clary froze, horrified by her eyes. She heard Jace swear softly as he helped her off the couch. A swirling black mist was slowly surrounding her and Magnus until they were gone, leaving the smell of rotting corpses lingering in the air. "What the-," muttered Jace, hurrying forward, grabbing at the disappearing mist as if to cling on to it. Clary touched his arm, desperately thinking of what to say. "Jace, w-we should search the apartment to check if there's anything we could use to find Magnus," she suggested, moving off to open a kitchen drawer. Jace shook himself like a wet dog, starting to search the coffee table. "Clary, when Magnus said baby, did he mean _our_ baby?" he asked her carefully. She felt her stomach lurch with fear and tried to say something calm but instead, she blurted out "I'm pregnant!". Jace grinned. "How long have you been?" he asked her, moving across the room towards her, his face breaking into a gentle smile. "I'm not sure but Mum said my stomach shouldn't be this big at this stage. It's. . . weird," she muttered, staring down at the open drawer, her eyes watering. Clary felt a sudden warmth spread through her and looking up, she saw Jace standing next to her, his arms around her shoulders. He was still smiling, gazing down at her fondly. Clary's eyes traced his sharp cheekbones, the strong jaw and the strong eyebrows; she could've known them in the dark, blindfolded, he was so familiar to her. "Clary, whatever happens, no matter what, I will always be with you and I'll be there for you when the baby's born," he murmured, kissing her gently on the cheek and she was surprised to find that she was crying. "Thank you," she whispered back, stroking his hair. "Come on, we need to get back to the Institute and tell everyone what happened," she murmured finally, her voice surprisingly hoarse. "That crazy Catarina kidnapped Magnus for her own dark desires and we have no idea where she is. Sounds _so_ optimistic," he drawled as they started towards the door. "I always see light at the end of the tunnel," grinned Clary, feeling heart grow lighter by the minute.

"So what happened while I was in coma?" Isabelle asked, brushing her hair at the vanity table in her bedroom. Simon was awkwardly perched on the bed, unsure of what to say. He had seen the cold look in Isabelle's eyes when she talked to him, her voice staying at the same, cold tone. The only thing that seemed to interest her was what had happened while she had been unconscious.

"Well, we _had_ gone to see Kaelie about a cure but you kinda already woke up."

"Yeah, I still don't remember anything that happened in my dream."

At this, Simon got the feeling that Isabelle was hiding something from him. She was staring at herself in the mirror, her eyes blank again. "Are you sure?" he asked, getting up to stand behind her. "I'm sure. But I do remember one thing; you were in my dreams, telling me to wake up. I guess it worked," she told him, touching his hands lightly. Simon smiled hesitantly. Isabelle seemed happy but he had a nagging feeling that something had happened to her while she was in coma, something that she wouldn't tell him about. He took her by the shoulders and swivelled Isabelle around to face him, kneeling down to be eye level with her. "Isabelle," he began, gazing into her brown eyes, trying to get through to her. It seemed like though she heard everything he said, it all skimmed the top of her consciousness, unable to reach the rest of her. "Is there something you're not telling me? You know you can trust me." For a moment Simon thought he saw her brow furrow, as if trying to remember something but he must've imagined it, because a moment later she was smiling at him, shaking her head. "I trust you Simon, of course I do, but there is nothing I am or would hide from you about my dreams. Do _you_ trust me?" she asked him, placing a hand on his cheek. "Of course I trust you, of course," Simon told her, trying to reassure himself as well as Isabelle.

"Then why ask?"

"Just making sure you didn't see anyone other than me while you were dreaming."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I visited Leonardo Da Vinci and he made a nude painting of me."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Willingly?"

Isabelle grinned, going over to the door and opening it. "Naturally." As soon as the door had been opened, Church had scooted in, meowing loudly. "Has Jocelyn come back?" Simon asked him, moving out into the hallway. Church flicked his tail and silently prowled out of the room, Simon and Isabelle following. He led them into the downstairs hall, past the other Institute dormitories and finally into the library, scooting under one of the armchairs by the fireplace. Jocelyn sat at the desk, staring into the flames sparkling in the fireplace, which was lit, even during daytime. She barely noticed them as they hurried into the library, while Clary made a small noise of hello before returning to her pacing, her growing stomach illuminated clearly by the firelight. Jace was lounging in an armchair beside her, poised like a cat about to pounce.

"Well, here are the lovey-doves! Now we can finally begin our meeting, thanks Church," announced Jace, not getting up from his chair. "Speak for yourself," muttered Simon, flinging himself down onto the opposing chair, watching Isabelle as she moved to sit down by his armchair and lean her back against his armrest. "What meeting are you talking about anyway?" she asked, throwing her head back. Clary stopped pacing suddenly and quickly sat down, still agitated. "When we went to Catarina's to find out if it really was her that had poisoned you, she admitted it, took Magnus and disappeared in a puff of smoke," explained Jace, his voice strained and tired. "And you have no idea where she's gone?" Isabelle asked him, suddenly alert, her body tense against Simon's leg, sending shocks of electricity through him. "None whatsoever. We've sent a message to Maryse and Tessa. They should be here soon. We need to come up with a plan on how we're going to rescue Magnus once we know where he is," spoke up Clary, her gaze restless, shifting from Simon to Isabelle to Jace and Jocelyn. Suddenly, the sharp buzz of the Institute's doorbell interrupted them. "That'd be them," said Jocelyn, getting up from her seat and hurrying out of the library. The four of them sat in silence, Jace lounging in his armchair buffing his fingernails, Clary had gotten up again and had paced over to the desk while Simon absent mindedly stroked Isabelle's hair. She still seemed tense and she turned her head at every noise, listening carefully for something. "What was that?" Isabelle asked suddenly, eyes immediately flicking to the door. A loud bang had come from downstairs, followed by a muffled shout. Jace leapt to his feet. "It's definitely not Maryse and Tessa. Let's go." He sprinted gracefully from the room and Simon quickly followed, his training kicking in. Grabbing a _kindjal_ from the wall, he slid down the staircase on the banister and kicked off in the air, landing on the ground with a loud thud, pulling his knees up and rolling out of harm's way. Jumping to his feet, Simon took in the situation; a throng of demons, all different shapes and sizes, at least twenty of them, was in the Institute hallway, while in the centre of them was Jocelyn, waving her whip and cutting them in half. She was fighting strongly but Simon could see the fine beads of sweat trickling down her forehead and below her collar. Twirling the _kindjal_ in his hand he leaped into the fray, cutting demons left and right, making his way to Jocelyn. Beside him, Jace and Clary were fighting off two Ravener demons, back-to-back, while Isabelle was nowhere to be seen. _Please God, let her be safe_ , Simon prayed, finally reaching the centre of the throng. "Jocelyn!" He shouted over the din, plunging his _kindjal_ into the chest of a very ugly Forsaken, barely watching it topple over before turning to fend off the next one. "Jocelyn, we have to get out of here and surround them somehow. Do you know where they're coming from?" she nodded. "There's a man somewhere about here, tall, wearing black clothes and hood. He's commanding them to attack. Kill him and we win," Jocelyn shouted back, her whip slicing a Ravener neatly down the middle. Simon glance about, forgetting the fight for a moment. Then he saw him, standing on top of the stairs, wearing skin-tight black clothing and his face covered by a large hood. "I'll see him!" Simon shouted to Jocelyn, pulling away from her and cutting his way towards the man. He didn't move until Simon had left the throng before turning and sprinting up the stairs, his footsteps silent.

"Simon!" he heard Clary shout after him but he was already following the man, his breathing hard. _I will get him, I will_. Reaching the top of the staircase, Simon glanced back and saw the Institute doors open and through the burst. . . Alec, Maryse and Tessa. Smiling with relief, he turned to face the empty hallway before him. The shadows were dark and he thought he saw a flicker of black around the corner but the next moment it was gone. "Come and out and fight me, whoever you are! Fight me like a man!" he challenged, standing his ground as a demon finger flew past him, hitting the hallway mirror and smashing it to pieces. "That would be hard," began a voice, silky smooth. Simon watched as a tall man emerged from the shadows, feet first and face last. "Since I'm a pure-blooded demon. What does that make me?" He was a young man, near Simon's age, his face smooth and pale, framed by a bunch of golden hair, slightly curled. Simon could see that underneath those black clothes were huge muscles, tightening the sleeves. The only unnatural thing about him were his eyes; they were a dark blue and a ring of red fire was burned around the pupil of each eye, burning into Simon. "That makes you a monster, something that was meant to die long ago," he spat, not moving from his place. The man's eyes narrowed though his voice remained calm. "But I wasn't alway this way; only when my father went after the Holy Grail, turning it evil did I transform." Simon frowned, lifting the _kindjal_ a little higher. "Who are you?" he asked, moving closer.

"I am Sir Galahad, son of Lancelot and Elaine of Corbenic, Shadowhunter."

Simon gasped from surprise. "But you're meant to be dead!" he exclaimed, lowering the dagger. Galahad nodded. "I am," he said simply, moving towards Simon, a long _katana_ blade gleaming in his hand. Simon was too surprised to do anything other than slowly stumble back. A peaceful feeling was slowly creeping over him, blurring his mind. He heard a soft voice whisper to him: _He's dead, you can't kill someone who's dead. Let him swing the blade at you, he won't hurt you."_ Simon wanted to believe the voice, wanted to just stand there and watch Galahad try to kill him. But then a second voice, his own voice spoke over the whisper. " _What are you doing?"_ it screamed, bringing him back to reality. The sense of peace and quiet was gone and he could clearly hear the sounds of fighting downstairs. Galahad was still walking towards him, a cruel smile instantly turning his handsome face ugly. An idea immediately sprang into Simon's head. Trying to clear his eyes as of any emotion, he waited until Galahad was standing right in front of him, sword raised above his head. Glancing up, Simon smiled and drew back his hand, the _kindjal_ clutched tightly. Before he could move out of the way, Simon had already sunk the dagger into Galahad's with enormous force, piercing the tight leather armor and sinking into his stomach. He gasped loudly, evidently surprised. To Simon's shock, he was smiling, as if he had just said something funny. "You should've known better, Shadowhunter. I am a Greater Demon now and you cannot kill me that easily. Next time I see you, I won't waste time talking to you. _I'll_ kill _you_." He lifted a hand and Simon felt himself being lifted off the floor and thrown against the wall. Crying out in pain, he shivered, feeling a hot trickle of blood on his cheek. Standing up, he glanced around, trying to see where Galahad had gone. There was nothing left but a small, rose-shaped pin lying on the ground. _The Seelie Queen_. Snatching up the pin, he rushed back downstairs, putting away the _kindjal._

The downstairs lobby was a mess, black ichor and red blood mixed together, splattered on the floor and the walls. Alec was standing in one of the corners, while Jocelyn was drawing an _iratze_ his upper arm, her red hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Maryse and Tessa were sitting down on a pile of boxes, their heads bent closely together and in the centre of it all stood Jace and Clary, gently whispering to each other. Hearing Simon's footfalls on the stairs, Clary turned her face to him and smiled with relief.

"Simon, are you hurt?" she called, running up to him and throwing her arms around Simon in a big hug. He felt her small heart pounding against his chest and he smiled reassuringly, highly aware of Jace watching them closely. "I'm fine Clary. Where's Isabelle?" he asked her, moving away gently.

She pointed, taking hold of Jace's hand. "Over there, talking to Maryse and Tessa."

Simon felt his breath catch as he hurried over to them. _What if she's injured and could not even know she's dying._ "Isabelle, are you alright?" he blurted out, quickly kneeling down beside her. To his surprise, her skin was absolutely clean, with no signs of injuries and there wasn't any ichor or blood on her hands either. She smiled, her eyes still empty. "Yeah, I'm good. How about you?" Isabelle gently touched the swelling bruise on his head, covered in blood. He shrugged casually, shifting to a more comfortable position. "It's nothing, just a bruise." Tessa coughed gently, smiling a little. "We were talking about where Catarina could've gone," Maryse told him, crossing her legs over. "And where is that?" Simon inquired, sitting down on a box next to Isabelle. Tessa shrugged. "Maybe Alicante. I highly doubt that though. She probably went to a demon dimension where we can't track her." Simon suddenly felt a brain wave coming on. Pulling out the rose-pin, he handed it to Maryse. "Could we track Galahad by this?" he asked, leaning forward onto his knees. "Who's Galahad?" Maryse asked him, her eyebrows raised. Simon quickly filled her in on everything that had happened while he was fighting the demon and watched her expression of confusion turn to one of severe concern. "So you say you saw this exact rose-pin at the Seelie Court, handed to Catarina by Kaelie?" Tessa questioned him, taking it from him and examining it carefully. Clary and Jace had finished talking by now and were slowly moving over to listen to the conversation. Simon nodded silently, unsure if he should tell them that he had handed it to Catarina. "This is bad," Jace said simply, his hands resting on Clary's shoulders as Jocelyn and Alec joined them. Tessa glared at him. "We know that Jace." Alec glanced around, searching for someone. "Do you guys know where Magnus is?" he asked, the worry and concern in his voice evident. Simon felt his heart rise up to his throat. "About that. . .," began Clary, looking down at her feet. "Catarina kidnapped him and we're trying to find them," muttered Maryse, not looking her son in the eye. Alec's face immediately drained of colour but he didn't say anything, just sat down sharply on the floor, staring straight ahead. "Now that we've got that sorted, let's figure out how we're going to find them," continued Clary, trying to smile cheerfully. "I can try and track Galahad by this," began Tessa, showing them the pin. "But it might not be enough. Anyone have any ideas where they could've gone? Just for interest." Isabelle suddenly jumped up, her face split into a triumphant smile though her eyes never changed remaining cold and empty. "I've got an idea! Could Catarina have gone to the City of Iron? I mean, she probably knew about it." Clary frowned. "What's the City of Iron?" she asked, leaning forward with interest. Maryse was looking at Isabelle in concern. "The City of Iron is a city made of iron and only warlocks know how to get there. It's extremely dangerous," she warned them sternly. "Nephilim are not welcome there by most. And Tessa, though she's been at the Spiral Labyrinth for some time, can't get us in there." Suddenly, Alec stood up, his face set in an determined expression. "I want to go find him," he said firmly, gazing down at all of them. Jace got up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Alec, _parabatai_ , you need to stay. If more of them come," he gestured to where the demons had just lain. "Then you'll need all the people that can help. Please, do this for me." For a moment, Clary thought Alec was going to refuse but after a long pause, he slowly nodded and quietly sat down, drained of colour. A few moments later Jace sat down, his body still tense. For a moment, they all sat in silence when suddenly an idea came to Clary's mind.

Clary slapped a hand down onto Jace's lap, who yelped in surprise and stared at her in shock. She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Anyway, I know someone who should be able to get us in there. Just saying, he might not be exactly happy to see us but he should still help us," Clary told them, her face alight with life. Simon thought about how different it was compared to Isabelle's happy, but empty brown eyes. "Excellent, let's go there now," Maryse said, standing up, her tone brisk and businesslike. Jace shook his head. "I don't think all of us should go," he began, decidedly not looking at Clary, who raise and eyebrow dubiously and crossed her arms over stubbornly. "And who do you think _should_ go?" she asked him dangerously, while Jocelyn sighed with exasperation and walked off to the weapons room. Simon had half a mind to follow her but he wanted to stay and watch the newlyweds. _This should be good_. Jace gulped loudly, looking extremely nervous. However, when he spoke, his voice was firm. "Clary, I think you should stay in Idris. For my sake. No, for the baby's sake, stay at the manor until it's safe. Please," he pleaded, placing a hand over hers. She smiled mischievously, her eyes twinkling. "Jace, I'm still going to have to show you guys where to go. But I'll control myself and stay home like a good girl," she joked sweetly, bouncing off down the corridor, leaving Jace and Simon staring off after her suspiciously. "Do you think it's realistic that she'll actually stay in Idris?" Jace asked him, scratching his head absentmindedly. Simon shook his head. "Miracles might happen but I don't think Clary staying at home while we go off fighting is one of them."

Jace turned to face him, frowning.

"Then I'll do my best to make it become one."

Clary smirked as she opened the door to the weapons room. Do think that Jace thought it possible that she would _ever_ stay behind while he went off to fight. _Please, do it for me. No, do it for the baby._ Clary felt a twinge of guilt as she walked into the room and took a whip off the hook. It was light in her hand and the sunlight bounced off it's silver handle. Slipping it into her weapons belt, she took a handful of shuriken stars and carefully dropped into a small pouch on her hip. They tinkled every time she moved and hit against her leg. _Now I'm ready_. Leaving the weapons room, she returned to the entrance, trying her best to look upset. Jace was putting away his daggers while Simon was tracing a Speed Rune on his arm, a big _katana_ slung over his shoulder.

"Clary, I'm glad you're staying, it'll be better for you and the baby," murmured Jocelyn, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm sure Jace is too," Clary muttered, not looking her Mum in the eye. "Are we ready?" she asked the rest of them, striding towards the doors briskly, not looking at Jace or Simon, though she felt their eyes on her. Pushing open the doors, she shivered as a blast of cold air hit her in the face.

It was dark outside, the streets were cast into long shadows and the moon, as thin as a needle, hung in the sky, making Clary seem paler than she was. Silently, they moved through the city, passing by a couple of werewolves who were loitering about behind a pub. "Hey pretty! Fancy a drink?" one of them called, his yellow-green eyes the only feature visible. _This is just what we need_ , she thought bitterly, feeling Jace tense beside her. "We don't have time Jace. Just ignore them," she muttered, seeing he was about to retort. Grabbing his arm, Clary pulled him down the street, hearing Simon shout something at the werewolves. _Not him too_ , she thought, turning around to tell Simon that they had no time, that Catarina could've killed Magnus by now but instead, she cried out, feeling a heavy force hit her in the face, throwing her to the concrete. A moment later, though she felt no pain, Clary tasted blood on her lips, hot and red. Glancing up, she saw a tall faerie, his eyes blazing with blue fire, standing over her, a small dagger in his hand, which he was twirling expertly. _So it's true then. That the Seelies have betrayed us. Again._ Wiping the blood from her mouth, Clary rolled out from underneath him, anger flooding through her as she heard Jace shout out behind her, charging head first into the stomach of another faerie knight, bowling him over. Turning back to the faerie, she pulled out her whip with a flash and lashed out, aiming for his eyes. He cried out in pain as the whip end streaked in front of his face and pulled back, leaving him with a long, angry-looking cut across his eyes, blood gushing everywhere. Clary watched as he stumbled blindly, his hands waving out in front of him. Before she could lash out again, he had fallen on the ground, his chest unmoving. Keeping a firm hold on her whip, she moved back, trying to figure out where everyone was. Isabelle and Simon were battling an extremely tall faerie who was wearing armour made of metallic thorns. Jace was lying on the ground, wrestling for his life with what could've been a hellhound. Plunging forward, Clary brought the whip at the hellhound, hitting it across the back. Drawing back, she saw a big welt, spilling black ichor, stretch out where she had hit it. With a grunt, Jace pushed the hellhound's body off him, not even glancing at it. Instead, he was examining Clary for any injuries. "Are you okay?" he asked her, waiting for Simon and Isabelle to get rid of the now-dead faerie knight's body. She nodded, twirling the whip in her hand, eyebrow raised. "We better get going before more of them come. We've only got to go around this block and then we're there," she told them, gesturing for them to follow before turning round the corner.

 _So now that Kaelie's betrayed us and we have no idea who killed those two boys, Magnus has been captured by Catarina, what good things have happened so far? I'm pregnant, Isabelle woke from her coma and Mum and Luke are going on a romantic holiday. Great._

"Is this it?" Jace asked, pointing to the back door of Briggs' house _,_ evidently surprised. But considering the only warlocks he had ever visited were Magnus and Catarina, who had quite expensive apartments and they were both members of the Clave, this didn't shock Clary. "Yeah. Just saying, don't threaten him or say anything sarcastic, he might not get it," she warned, knocking on the door. Simon exchanged looks with Isabelle, who was standing with her back to Clary, making sure no one was coming up from behind them. A moment later, the door was opened by Archie, his face dark. "Oh, it's you," he said, looking past Clary with suspicion. She tried to smile cheerfully but instead her mouth filled with blood from her cracked and bleeding lips. _Hopefully this works_ , she hope, crossing her fingers over and hiding them behind her back.

"Sorry to come back here in the middle of the night and all. . . but we need your help. Our friend has been captured by a warlock and we need to get to the City of Iron to find him. Can you open a Portal for us there?"

Archie placed a hand on his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. "Come in," he muttered finally, opening the door wider. Clary sighed with relief as they all filed into the house, walking down the dark hallway and into another room. There were couches and tables everywhere and a bright red carpet hung on the wall, standing out like a sore thumb. "Take a seat," said Archie, his voice assuming the same mature tone he had used before. They all sat down on the couches and watched as Archie sat down cross-legged in front of them, his purple eyes gleaming. "So you want me to take you to the City of Iron?" he asked, closing his eyes. Clary nodded, feeling how tense Jace was beside her. "We do. Will you?" "I will." Her heart filled with relief and Clary smiled, slipping her fingers through Jace's, who squeezed them gently. Archie opened his eyes, smiling unkindly, filling her with dread as she realised what he was going to say next. "For a price." Jace's hold on Clary's hand tightened and she felt her stomach plunge. When he spoke, Jace's voice was bitter. "What do you want?" Archie stood up, rubbing his hands together, producing a crackle of electricity that lit the room. "A lock of hair from each of you. Or else, I won't do it." Isabelle stood up, her face stony. "No, that is impossible. Ask for something else or. . ." He grinned. "Or what? You won't get to City of Iron without me so what choice do you have? And I didn't think _you_ would go, or at least, you wouldn't be allowed to go," he added, glancing at Clary's stomach before returning his gaze to Isabelle, who's expression didn't change. "So what shall it be? A mere lock of your hair for a free trip to the City of Iron? Or will you leave and track down another warlock who knows how to get there?" he asked, clasping his hands together. Clary stood up, her hands spread out wide. She shivered, remembering how Sebastian had told her that a single drop of her blood or a lock of her hair could be used against her, to possess her. "You can have four of mine, to make up for theirs. Is that enough?" Before Archie could even reply, Jace was standing next to her, glaring at him. "No! Take mine but leave Clary!" he cried, pulling her to him. Isabelle snorted with exasperation, while Archie watched them keenly. "Okay, let's do it like this; I give mine, Simon does and you too Jace. Will that do, Briggs?" she asked briskly, hands planted on hips. Everyone stared at her. Was this Isabelle, bargaining for each of them apart from Clary to give up a lock of hair that could be used to control them all? _She's changed_ , realised Clary, watching with silent horror as Archie nodded. "Fine. Hurry up and give me the locks and I'll make the Portal," he said, his smile crafty that didn't help them put their trust in him. Simon raised a finger in warning. "Not so fast, Briggs. You have to swear on everything you hold dear that you won't use these locks against us and will keep your part of the promise," he said solemnly, crossing his arms over. For a moment, Clary thought he would refuse but instead, Archie, his expression sour, just nodded silently and placed a hand over his heart. They all watched as he solemnly recited his oath. "I, Archibald Johnathan Briggs, swear on pain of death that I will not use these locks of hair against their respected owners. Also, I will keep my part of our bargain and provide them with a safe passage to the City of Iron. That good enough for you?" Jace nodded, his hold on Clary loosening as he reached up to his head. "Fine. Okay, do your magic," he told him, holding out a single blonde hair. They all watched, transfixed as Simon carefully raised his dagger to Jace's head and gently cut the lock, handing it to Archie, who nodded quietly and took it, turning his back on them and starting to draw fiery lines in the air before him. Clary glanced up at Jace, smiling reassuringly. He smiled back and gingerly touched the spot where he had cut off the hair. "It'll never be the same but I'm sure you don't mind," he murmured, drawing closer to her. She chuckled, turning back to Archie. "Well, I'll have to make do. I suppose."

Isabelle glared at Briggs, her right poised above the dagger sheathed in her weapon belt. "Well, warlock. Have you finished?" she asked, surprising everyone with her icy tone. Clary stared at her, trying to hide her suspicion. _Something definitely happened to Isabelle. She's acting_ _ **way**_ _tougher than usual_ , she thought, feeling Jace tense. Looking up at his face, Clary could see his expression of evident astonishment. Archie turned to face her, his face blank. Behind him, a swirling mass of greyish mist was forming into an oval mirror. Instead of reflecting them standing inside the room, it showed a wide street, surrounded by tall metallic skyscrapers, their iron surfaces gleaming in the bright sun,on the other side of the Portal. "Yeah. Now, you can-" he began, reaching for his pocket. Archie never completed his sentence; with a flick of her wrist, Isabelle sent her dagger speeding straight towards his chest, plunging into it and vibrating silently from the force. He stared at her, his purple eyes wide open. "You. . . you backstabbing little-" Archie broke off, gasping for breath. They watched with silent horror as he fell to the softly carpeted floor, dark violet blood slowly trickling out from underneath his body. Clary glanced at Isabelle's face; it was cold and stony, without a flicker of remorse. "Why did you do that Izzy?" Jace asked, his voice tense. She walked over to the Portal without looking at him. "I thought he was going to kill us," she muttered in what should've been a miserable voice but instead came out blank and unreadable. Clary felt sorry for Isabelle, despite her suspicion. Moving closer to her, she reached out towards Izzy and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright." Isabelle turned on her heels, glaring at them all. "No, Clary, it's not 'alright'," she began, her eyes suddenly bursting with life, blazing at her. Clary took a step back, hurt by Isabelle's hostility. "Izzy." Simon's tone was hard and loud, his gaze on Izzy. Jace walked up to Clary, taking hold of her hips and pulling her into him. She shivered a little at the touch of his well-toned stomach against her spine. Suddenly, all life left Isabelle's eyes. "I'm sorry Clary," she murmured, stepping towards the Portal. "Let's go," said Jace, gently pushing Clary towards it. Taking a step forward, she felt as if she was falling, the swirling grey mist closing over her. A moment later, she felt a cool breeze blow through her hair. Stepping out of the mist, Clary saw tall iron buildings that sparkled in the sun rise up around her, while a voice whispered on the wind, " _Find them. They are here. . . they are here."_


	6. Chapter 5

Above them, ere the summer when he died, "Magnus, open your eyes." He was sitting down in the bedroom at Catarina's apartment. The moment Magnus had entered through the door, she'd locked it behind him. Giggling quietly, she slipped into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open. Feeling sick inside and with his head pounding horribly, Magnus had plonked down on the bed, closing his eyes tightly in case of anything. Now, imagining Alec's face in front of him, he quickly threw his hands to cover his wide open eyes. "No," Magnus muttered, feeling like a child. With a quiet chuckle, he felt Catarina's hands on his and with slight hesitation, he let her pull them from his face. The moment he did, he regretted it, gulping loudly, but Magnus couldn't look away. In front of him stood Catarina, her dark blue hair splayed out in front, covering her nearly-naked chest. She was wearing a lacey black bra, with matching panties and a shy smile lit up her face in a cold blue fire. The sickly feeling in Magnus' stomach grew and he quickly turned his head away, not wanting to see anything else. I won't betray Alec, not if I'm going to marry him. Not my Alec, my dear sweet Alexander. Pulling himself together, Magnus stood up, pulling his gaze back to Catarina, trying to sound gentle. "Catarina, I'm sorry but I can't do this and I don't love you. It's just how it is," he murmured, looking down at his feet, not wanting to see her reaction. When she spoke, Catarina's voice was calm, not at all cold. "I think you'll see how wrong being gay is, eventually." Magnus tried not to cry out as he suddenly felt himself thrown back onto the bed by an invisible force. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, shivering as he felt the cool touch of her hand on his stomach, pushing his shirt up to his chest, moving in small strokes. When she spoke next, Catarina's voice sounded in his ear, her lips brushing against it. "You will soon." * * * "So where do we now?" Simon asked, tightening the belt around his waist. He was still feeling shaken by Isabelle's coolness and how she had barely glanced at Archie's body before stepping through the Portal. Jace shrugged, looking up and down the street. "Magnus could've left some sort of trail for us to follow. Like. . . like a magic powder or something." Clary bent down, her stomach jutting out slightly, making Simon want to laugh. "Let's get looking then. Jace, you go that way and Isabelle and Simon go the other. Come back here when you've found something." Simon watched as Jace started to head off in the direction of a tall skyscraper, his eyes trained to the ground. He felt a cool touch on his arm, and turning around he saw Isabelle looking at him with concern. Simon shuddered, remembering her blank tone a couple of minutes before. "Are you okay?" she asked, squatting down and rubbing her fingers on the metallic dust beneath them. "I. . . I'm fine." For a moment, he had longed to tell her exactly what he was feeling, the sense that something had changed her and emptied her soul, replacing it with a cold, stony one that only warmed at his touch and no one else's. Simon thought he saw, or rather, her expected to see her peering at him suspiciously, not believing that he was fine; instead, she shrugged casually and smiled a little, like an innocent child. "Good. Let's get looking then." Not knowing why, Simon felt the bitter disappointment well up inside him. He had wanted her to doubt his words, to reach up and ask him what was wrong, what was really wrong. But she hadn't, which showed how unlike the Izzy he was used to she was. Bending down, he reached out and brushed a hand on the ground. The metallic powder that practically coated the street came off on his finger, shining in a rainbow light, caught in the sun's bright rays. Bringing his fingers up to his face, Simon could see small pieces of glitter conjoined with the powder, nearly blinding him. "Izzy," he called, still staring down at his fingers, "I think I've found the trail. Look." He barely noticed as she bent her head over his hand, staring at it from different angles. "I'm pretty sure this is Magnus' hair gel. Stay here, I'll be right back." Simon watched as Isabelle sprinted away, her black hair flying out behind her like a flag. Glancing up at the buildings, he saw that they were windowless, large iron skulls hammered into the places of the windows. "This city's got a great sense of humour," he muttered, standing up. Suddenly, a slight movement caught his eye; a small grubby little boy, approximately seven or eight years old, was walking out of the building behind Simon, his hair a messy tangle on top of his head. His eyes were a startlingly bright blue colour, piercing through him and reminding him of Alec's Lightwood-blue eyes. Unlike most warlocks and their children, this boy had no signs of demon blood. Instead, he appeared to be more angelic if anything. "What are you doing?" the boy asked, his gaze keen and scrutinising, as if silently judging Simon for being an adult. For some reason, he felt ashamed that someone so young and defenseless was judging him, possibly the world's greatest Shadowhunter. Quickly getting up, he avoided the question and smiled what he thought was a gentle smile. "What's your name?" The boy shrugged, still gazing at Simon with a keen interest. "Aylwin. And you still haven't answered my question." Simon, momentarily flustered by such authority from an eight-year old, was spared having to answer by the arrival of Clary, followed by Jace and Isabelle. "Simon Izzy told us that you found something we could use to track Magnu-" She broke off, catching sight of Aylwin. He looked up at her with mature curiosity, appearing to be much older than he was. "Who's Magnu?" he asked innocently, completely different from his attitude when he was talking to Simon. He felt an unexpected jolt of annoyance at this sudden change of behaviour and pushed it down. Clary smiled gently and bent down, her eyes examining him keenly. "He's a friend. Tell me, did you see a tall warlock with black hair and another warlock with blue skin and hair?" she asked, while Jace and Isabelle peered at him suspiciously, poised for running. After a moment of careful consideration, Aylwin replied shyly. "Yes. They went that way," he said, pointing down a street. "Can you show us?" Jace asked, smiling a friendly smile. "Only if you hold my hand," Aylwin said to him, holding out a hand and ducking his head down. For a moment, everyone was shocked, staring at the small boy. "Of course he will. Isn't that right, Jace?" Clary stared at him expectantly, her eyes narrowed. Simon tried not smirk as he saw Jace gulp loudly before looking down at Aylwin. "Where did they go?" he asked gruffly, gingerly taking hold the little boy's hand and following him as Aylwin led them down the street, turning down a smaller area that was possibly a suburb. These houses were made of a different metal, probably far more expensive and Simon guessed that it was either lead or mercury, the way it seemed to act like liquid held in by a few solid boundaries. Here, instead of skulls, iron eagles, their wings spread out in flight. Tall trees, made of a dark bluish metal loomed over them, throwing the entire sidewalk into shade. With a grudging admiration, Simon admired Aylwin's pluck to demand that Jace Herondale hold his hand. On the other hand, he also never realised how frightened Jace was of children and how interesting it would be to see him teach his and Clary's kids how to survive. Suddenly, they all stopped. Aylwin let go of Jace's hand and pointed up ahead; they were standing in a long narrow street, now surrounded by smallish buildings that were obviously made of either copper or tin. Probably the poorer part of the city. "Why is it called the City of Iron if not everything is made of iron?" he asked out loud, earning a glare from everyone, including Aylwin. "This is where I saw them disappear," said Aylwin, gesturing to the rusty house opposite them. Silently, Clary pulled out her seraph blade and cautiously approached the house, searching for a way to enter. There were no doors and as Simon ran a hand over the coppery wall, he drew back his hand quickly, yelping in pain; a small shock of electricity had hit him, and as Simon watched, he saw the wall ripple slowly before returning to normal. "What happened?" Clary asked Aylwin, frowning in puzzlement. He stared down at his feet peevishly. "Only warlocks can get into these house buildings. But-" he began, noticing the disappointment on their faces, "I can enter it, but not for long." Isabelle nodded. "Good. Let's go then," and taking hold of Aylwin's hand she led him up to the house and pressed his hand to the wall not firmly but not as gentle as she usually was. For a moment, his face screwed up with pain and Simon could tell that the only thing keeping Aylwin standing was Isabelle's grip on his hand. "Isabelle! Stop, you're hurting him!" cried Clary, abandoning her seraph blade and rushing forward. Jace grabbed her around the shoulders, holding her back as the wall in front of them melted away, revealing a dark entryway, the walls a dark grey colour. Isabelle slowly released Aylwin and leaving him standing outside, stalked into the house. Simon felt his heart wrench unexpectedly as he passed Aylwin, who was doubled over, trying not to cry. Once again, he thought about how Aylwin was unlike any other eight-year old he had ever met. Holding out a hand, he wasn't surprised when the boy, jerked away and took Clary's hand in his, his blue eyes flashing with pride. Stepping up into the entryway, the first thought that Simon associated with the smell that hung in the air was stale bread. "So where do we go now?" he asked Isabelle, bending down next to her on the stone cold floor. She shrugged, reaching down and gingerly brushing her hands on the ground, her fingertips stained with the same glittery powder. "It leads up the stairs," she told him, standing up as Clary, still holding Aylwin's hand, followed by Jace, who was frowning, entered the entryway. The look on Clary's face showed exactly how angry and confused she was by Isabelle's behaviour. "Get ready for anything, demons, warlocks, fey," muttered Jace, slipping out a kindjal and starting up the staircase. Reaching behind him, Simon pulled out the the bow he had brought with him and put an arrow to its string, holding it in front of him as they all followed Jace up at the stairs, Isabelle and Clary with their whips at the ready while Aylwin held a small dagger in his hand, something he had probably found. The powder led them up the staircase and stopped outside a huge iron door marked with the name A. M. Archer. "Hang on," said Clary, bending forward to get a better look at the plaque, "how come this is A. M. Archer's apartment, not Catarina's?" Isabelle pulled the strings on her leather gear tight with a brutal force. "She probably got rid of him somehow and is using Archer's place as a hideout." Simon shook his head, feeling as if something was wrong. "I don't think so. She probably brought Magnus to Archer. But why?" "Well, there's only one way to find out, by opening this door. Do you want to help?" Isabelle asked, turning to Aylwin, who shuffled away from her. Clary glared at her. "No way Izzy. You saw how much pain it causes him. Let me try." Pulling out her stele, she set to work, carving an Opening Rune on the metal door, the hand gripping the stele white with pressure. Simon remembered all those times when she had need to use her powers, how concentrated Clary's face had been, as if she were willing the Rune to come to life and do her bidding. He heard Aylwin gasp as the door melted away and opened up the entrance to a rich apartment. * * * Clary put away the stele and slowly stepped through the door, still hearing her voice ringing through her head, "Open, open, open for me." The inside walls of the apartment were a light cream colour and underneath her feet she could feel a soft sheepskin carpet. A long hallway stretched out in front of her, the walls bare of any picture frames. Turning around, she started to call back to them that it was safe to enter when suddenly the wall behind her melted back into focus. Her heart tightening with panic, Clary reached forward trying to reach towards Jace. "No! Clary stay where you are! I'm coming!" shouted Jace, moving towards her, pulling out his knife. Suddenly, a dagger whizzed past Clary's cheek, and she shivered unwillingly from the wind it sent past her face. She watched, frozen in silent horror as the dagger, black ebony, sailed straight to Jace's chest. Time and space seemed to slow and they all stared in terror as Aylwin shot out in front of him, managing to push Jace out of the way with surprising strength. The dagger, nearing Jace's chest, fell to the ground, deflected by the small weapon in Aylwin's hand. As it clattered on the stone floor, Clary turned on her feet and glanced around wildly behind her; a tall man, his dark hair at shoulder-length and his beard neatly trimmed, wearing designer jeans and a low-cut black V-neck, with blue and red eyes, was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall and grinning slightly, the only thing betraying his casual appearance was his right hand, poised over the weapons belt that hung on his hips. He clicked his fingers and with the sound of a door slamming, the wall sealed itself behind her, shutting out the noise from the hallway. Her heart pounding in her throat, Clary tried to find her voice but the man was already speaking. "My Guinevere, do you not recognise me? 'Tis I, Lancelot DuLac, your true love. Come to me, my queen," he said, taking a step towards her. Clary stepped back, glancing around her wildly before remembering that she had a full pouch of shuriken on her weapons belt. "I'm not Guinevere, I'm Clarissa Herondale. Please let me go," she said carefully, slowly lowering her hand to the pouch at her side. He raised a dagger, holding it by the blade. "Don't try it, or else. . ." His voice changed from a slow, calm, melodic one to a rough threatening one, stopping Clary in her tracks. "Where's Magnus?" she asked hesitantly, not moving from her position. "He's here in this apartment. I only allowed him to live because Catarina stated she would have him as her reward at the end of the bargain fulfillment. Follow me." Waving an elegant hand, Lancelot slowly walked down the hallway and opened a door, possibly at random. Clary grabbed onto the wall and felt her fingers scrape against the slippery wall as an invisible force pulled her forward, pushing her through the same door and releasing her in the centre of the room. The door swung shut behind her, locking with a loud click. "Sit down, Guinevere. Coffee?" He was sitting down in a high-backed leather armchair, elegantly sprawled out, his long legs crossed over in front of him. Next to him was another, almost identical armchair, the only difference being the height; hers was a little smaller. In between them stood a medium-sized coffee table, the surface made up of different colourful murals. In the corner there was a red velvet curtain, probably concealing a door. Clary warily walked over to the armchair meant for her and sat down. "I'm not Guinevere, I'm Clary," she said firmly, sounding like a little girl, trying not to shudder as Lancelot's eyes burned into her. "I take it you don't drink coffee then. Very well, Guinevere, now I shall proceed to tell you my plans for this world, which I and my loyal followers will rule and you shall be by my side," he said to her, quite unlike any evil villain Clary had read about. She raised an eyebrow, not daring to lean back into her chair as if chains would spring up an trap her there. "You know that most villains don't tell their plans straight away to some random person." He chuckled, surprising her even further. "How modern you are, my fair queen. But you are not 'random', as you say. I have hoped and prayed from your resurrection, for you to leave your king in his death and join me. Now, I believe fortune and my own powers have brought us together again." For a couple of moments there was silence, during which Clary carefully studied Lancelot's face, deciding on what to say next. His cheeks were smooth, angular, the eyebrows above his eyes a thick, dark blonde colour while his eyelashes were like pale gold. On his hands and up his arms, she could see faint silver scars, remainders of the Marks he had once worn. He had once been human, even attractive if in the right light, but now there was something inhuman about him, not like the beauty of fey but more like a demonic change, making him fast and lethal, adding a dangerous gleam to his eye and a cruel perspective to his grin. "Who did you pray to? God?" she asked him finally, trying to find out what sort of demon he was. For a moment Clary thought she saw a frown flit across his face but it was erased, replaced with a thoughtful smile. "At first I prayed to God but then after the Immoral Grail, I was put on a level of communication with a Greater Demon; Lucifer himself. To him I prayed and he answered my thoughts, enlightening me with a plan for this world. Unfortunately, while my body was transforming to this better version, I lay in a deep sleep, as if dead and my body was buried in my home country. Then, two decades ago, I awoke, surrounded by the hum of modernisation. I travelled the world to find you, my Queen but I have achieved my goal. Will you promise to stay with me?" Before Clary could say anything other than "I. . .", the concealed door flung open and in burst... Magnus, his cat eyes wide open, the black hair on his head messy and ruffled. The shirt he was wearing was pulled up to his stomach and his the fly on his jeans was slightly open. Clary tried not to stare as Catarina burst through after him, wrapping a silk black dress robe around her, her blue hair twisted up in a messy bun. Magnus flushed, zipping up his pants, as Lancelot grinned coolly, ignoring Clary's look of shock. "Catarina, we have a guest. Guinevere, I believe you've already met Miss Loss, warlock and member of the Scholomance. Not tired, are you?" he inquired with mocking politeness, watching Catarina and Magnus as they stood in the room, their faces flushed and red. Clary searched his face, trying to understand what had happened between Magnus and Catarina. He was staring at her, still wide-eyed and shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The message was clear: Nothing happened, it wasn't his choice. Clary remembered what it was like when Sebastian had pressed her against the wall of her bedroom in Idris, speaking into her neck, out of control completely. Closing her unconsciously open mouth, she nodded back: I understand. I won't tell Alec anything. Catarina smiled, pushing back a strand of hair from her eyes, purposely avoiding Clary's gaze. "I. . . I needed to speak with you about- something." She spoke uncertainly, as if she was afraid of Lancelot. Clary couldn't blame her. Speaking to Lancelot was like speaking with a dangerous child, though it didn't show by his appearance; if he was being reasonable, he would listen and speak in a calm voice. However, if he was in a foul mood, Lancelot could easily kill you before you had even started speaking. "Magnus, Guinevere, excuse us for a moment. Xyrden will show you out," he said, not moving from his position. Clary had to stop herself from screaming out loud as Xyrden entered from the hallway; a tall man, his skin a pale green colour, strode into the room, his hands in his pockets. Seeing her look of shock, Xyrden smiled, revealing a set of very sharp, very white and very thin fangs. His hair was a dark green colour and when the light hit him skin, it glimmered with all the colours of the rainbow, like fish scales. "Merman," muttered Magnus in her ear as they passed by Xyrden, walking out into the hallway. Here another surprise awaited them; glancing down at the floor, Magnus and Clary froze, seeing an exact copy of the merman standing behind them slumped against the wall, his head hanging low. Glancing back at the man next to her, Clary stared for a long time, trying to peel away the glamour. "Jace!" she cried in a hoarse whisper, flinging her arms around his neck. Magnus' worried face broke into a grin and he casually leaned against the wall, not sparing the real Xyrden a glance. He was peering at her in concern, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "We have to get you out of here," he whispered back, pointing to the apartment door. Magnus shook his head, pushing off and standing away from the cream-coloured walls. "It's warded against steles and everything else. The only place where you can draw a Portal is in Catarina's room. To ge there, we have to go through there. That's where Lancelot and Catarina are," he said bitterly, clenching and unclenching his fists, a blue aura staring to glow around them. "How do we do that?" asked Clary, knowing what Jace would say in answer. It made her heart clench with the fear of what could happen. "We go in there and use the element of surprise," he muttered, handing Clary a stele and nodding to Magnus, who turned to face the door and poised his hand over the doorknob, the other in the air, the glow even brighter. Clay's heart pounded so loudly that she wondered at how the others couldn't hear her. "Three, two, one," whispered Magnus. On one, he twisted the doorknob open and in a flash he burst through the door, pulling Clary with him. "Xyrden is that you?" Lancelot called, his voice almost childlike. She turned away as she heard Magnus shout an angry battle cry and saw a flash of red, directed at Lancelot before she started sprinting towards the curtains, stele gripped tightly in her hand, Jace right behind her. Ducking an almost laser-like beam of blue light that burnt a huge hole in the wall just behind the place where her head had been. Flinging aside the curtains, she pushed through the door and inside what was probably Catrina's room. Leaving a Jace in the doorway holding it open for Magnus, who was slowly backing in. Moving the stele, Clary concentrated all of her mind and being on the Portal. Create a way to Simon. To Izzy. To Aylwin. With a burst of blinding white light, the Portal appeared in front of her, illuminating them all and casting shadows on the floor. Glancing behind her, she saw Jace pulling Magnus through the door and locking it behind him. Pushing the warlock towards the Portal, he put away the kindjal in his hand, Jace peered back in concern before turning to Clary. "Are you okay Clary? He didn't hurt you did he?" She shook her head, thinking about how controlled Lancelot had been. Thank God. A sudden bang distracted them, the door creaking on it's hinges. Stepping into the Portal, Clary saw the door burst open and Lancelot, his face thunderous, gripping a knife stained with dark blue blood. Catarina's blood, she realised with a sickening jolt. Suddenly, he froze; he had seen Clary, her hand being held by Jace. Time seemed to slow as Lancelot drew back his hand and hurtled the knife towards them. A moment later, she saw Jace collapse at her feet the weapon sink into Jace's chest, his body convulsing in shudders, like he was having a fit, the dagger plunged into his chest. * * * Clary frowned with worry, biting her lip so hard that she tasted blood in herher mouth. Sitting on the edge of herher seat she watched her herhusbandhusband as he slept, the corners of hisis mouth twitching. It hadn't taken them long to carry him through the City of Iron towards the place where they had left Isabelle and Simon with Aylwin, (who was now sitting at the foot of his bed, gnawing his fingernails) but Clary was still worried that it wasn't enough. What if Jace died? Lancelot had thrown the knife straight into his chest missing the heart by inches stopped only by the bulletproof runed vest he was wearing. Brother Enoch had shown them the knife; it was made of obsidian, with words in demonic script etched on it's blade. A large moonstone was embedded into its hilt, glowing as Clary Clary held it in her hands, the feeling of hollowness and fear flowing through her in torrents,When Jace was injured, she was injured. When he was dying, she was dying. "He's fine. I've managed to extract the demon poison from his body but he'll still have to stay in bed for a week. I'll leave the knife with you," said Brother Enoch sounding strangely cheerful, leaving the room silently and taking his instruments with him. Clary felt the hollowness leave here as she grabbed Jace's wrist, trying to be gentle, too eager to control herself , now that he was definitely alive. At her touch, Jace twisted underneath her her grasp, screaming loudly, his golden hair scattered on the pillow, contrasting brightly. Immediately releasing him, Clary couldn't help but feel hurt that Jace , herer husband and one true love, screamed at her touch. She started, seeing that there was now an ugly, welt-like mark where she had touched him, as black as a bruise. "Is he all right now?" Aylwin asked quietly, coming up next to her. Feeling the hollow feeling return, she forced a smile. "Yes. Come on Aylwin, let's get you sorted," and taking him by the hand, Clary led the boy out of the Infirmary, not not glancing back at the now calm Jace . * * * "So how old are you, Aylwin?" Jocelyn asked, eying him keenly. He shrugged. "Eight probably." They glanced at him with confusion. "My parents died when I was little and I never had an education." Clary felt pity for the small boy and a strange maternal instinct for the small boy in front of her; to be so young and living in the streets, having to fight for your food. "So how did you survive?" she asked, interrupting Jocelyn. "It couldn't have been easy, living by yourself on the streets of the City of Iron when it causes you so much pain to even open a door." Jocelyn glared at her, evidently worried that she had said too much. Aylwin sighed, as if he was living with the struggles of adulthood. "The only reason I can even survive in that city is because my Ma was a warlock." "What about your Dad?" asked Alec, closing the door behind him. "No one ever told me," sighed Aylwin sadly, his stomach rumbling. Jocelyn leapt up, grinning cheerfully. "Come, Aylwin, I'll make you a grilled cheese. Alec and Clary, can you go check on Jace again please?" she called over her shoulder, leaving the door open. Hesitating in the doorway, Aylwin smiled reassuringly before going out into the hall, closing the door. "So, what did he tell you?" "Well, I now know that he's a warlock. And he also lived in the street and has nowhere to live now that we took him away from the City of Iron." Alec frowned, rubbing his temples soothingly. "He seems very grown-up for a five year old," he murmured, picking up a random book from the shelf behind him. "Probably the warlock part of him? Who do you think his father was? Faerie, Werewolf?" guessed Clary, taking the book off him. Pregnancy Guide for Shadowhunters. "Most likely he was Nephilim. We need to test him," said Alec, sounding grave, dark rings under his eyes. She realised how worried and tired Alec had grown over the few days that had passed by. "Not now though. Alec, I was thinking, maybe Jace and I should . . . you know, adopt Aylwin. What do you think?" she asked hesitantly, wanting to know her husband's parabatai's opinion before she asked Jace. Alec smiled, which should've reassured her if it hadn't been for the unsure look in his eye. "Aylwin seems to like you and he's obviously worried about the both of you. Even if he isn't half Shadowhunter, I think you should run the idea past Jace. How is he by the way?" Alec asked, watching Clary with amusement as she flicked through the pregnancy guide, examining it closely. She would certainly need it and it would be helpful for Jace to read it as well. "Still sleeping when I left him." She didn't say anything to Alec about Jace's reaction when she had touched him. It still hurt. "Have you decided on a name for the baby? Do you even know what gender it is?" continued Alec, leaning back in his chair. Clary shrugged, trying not to imagine herself lying on a bed, blood pouring from her stomach and onto the floor, dripping quietly as she lay dead, pale as the pillow underneath her head. Shaking her head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears, Clary pushed the thought from his mind. "We haven't really talked about that but now that we've found Magnus, and quite quickly at that, we have heaps of time," she reassured Alec, smiling widely even if she didn't want to. "Why did Magnus get kidnapped?" "I think I know but Jace should be here when I tell you," said Clary, getting up and opening the door, still holding the book. Alec followed her as they walked down the winding corridor towards the Infirmary. "Is that guide useful?" Alec asked her suddenly, a faint twinkle in his eye, disrupting Clary's thoughts. "Well, it'll probably be useful for both of us," she replied awkwardly, pausing outside the Infirmary doors. "Come on, open them," urged Alec, glancing at her with worry. Breathing in deeply, Clary pushed through the doors and stalked over to Jace's bed, careful not to touch him even if it caused her pain to do so. He was sitting up and absentmindedly examining a vase of flowers standing next to him on the bedside table. "Clary, Alec, are you guys alright? Jocelyn didn't tell me anything? Where's Aylwin? And Magnus? Izzy? Simon?" he asked quickly, frowning with worry. Alec raised a hand, stemming the flow of questions. Clary couldn't look at him, remembering how he had writhed and screamed from her touch. It felt horrible. "We're fine," began Alec, glancing at Clary, "and Aylwin is having something to eat. I'm not sure where Magnus is but he looked very tired. Izzy has gone out to buy something and Simon is in the weapons room." Jace nodded, satisfied, and leaned back into the pillows, his eyes never leaving Clary's face. "Do you know why Magnus was kidnapped?" Alec asked her, sitting down on the foot of his parabatai's bed. Quietly and quickly, she explained to them what Lancelot had told her and how he thought that Clary was Guinevere, trying to take her with him. "What do you make of this?" Jace asked her gently, with a slight hesitation. It pained her to think that he, her Jace, was scared of asking her a question, scared of talking to her. Finally, she raised her head and gazed straight at him, surprising Jace. "That Lancelot is a total nutter who needs to be killed before he causes any real harm," she said bitterly, ignoring Alec's look of exasperation. Jace smirked a little. "I think we need to stay at the Institute and protect ourselves from Lancelot, especially you. Alec?" he added, looking at his parabatai finishing the rest of his request with his eyes: Could you please leave us? Understanding him completely, Alec nodded and quickly left, shutting the door behind him. The moment he had left, Jace leaned forward, falling onto his knees as he gazed determinedly at her. "Clary, what's wrong?" His voice was low and quiet but she could make out the worried and concern underneath it. She tried to smile. It didn't work. "Jace, I- I found this book," she stuttered, quickly handing it to him. He frowned in confusion before reading the title. "Pregnancy Guide for Shadowhunters. Clary, this is great!" he exclaimed happily, momentarily distracted. She felt a twinge of amusement as she watched him flick through the book, examining it carefully. But when he looked up at her, the book closed in his lap, Jace's gaze was sharp. "But this isn't it. Clary, what is it? Tell me, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking. She sighed dramatically, pretending to act as if he had guessed what was really wrong. "Okay, you got me; I want to adopt Aylwin but don't know what you'll say. Satisfied?" Jace's face lit up in a happy smile, reminding her of a small child on Christmas. "That's a great idea. Did you ask him?" Clary shook her head. "Not yet. I think we should talk to him about it a bit later." He nodded, still smiling gently. "Clary, I think that's a great idea." She watched with horror as he raised his hand and made to place it over hers. Standing up hastily and drawing her hand away, Clary smiled quickly, feeling miserable at the look of hurt on his face. "I-I have to go check on Magnus," she muttered lamely, her eyes widening upon seeing the black welt on Jace's wrist. Trying to ignore the hurt and confusion of his expression, she quickly hurried out the doors, not closing them behind her as she sprinted up the hallway, her throat tight. * * * Simon sighed as he made another cut in his twig, watching as a tall mundane woman, made even taller by her seven-inch stiletto heels, bundled up in a cheap leopard-print coat, flashed a smile to the security guard outside the club entrance before walking in, the black door closing shut behind her. He had never imagined demon patrolling this boring. High above New York hung the bright moon, it's white beams shining down and casting everything in long shadows. The sky was a velvet dark blue colour, dotted with twinkling silver stars. His hand poised to cut another mark, Simon stopped as he saw a man and a woman, their eyes a distinct red colour. The woman's hair was long and a very, very pale blond, hanging all the way down her back and stopping at her hips. Her companion's hair was steel-grey, slicked back with a large quantity of hair gel. What had caught Simon's attention, other than their strange looks, were the dark and obviously glamoured talons protruding from the end of their long, nimble fingers. Not taking his eyes off them, Simon reached down into his pocket and pulled out his vibrating Sensor. Directing it at the couple, he could barely keep a hold on it, it was shaking and quivering so hard. "Greater demons," he muttered under his breath, slipping the Sensor back into his pocket. Leaping down from the roof of the building he had been lounging on, Simon checked the quiver at his hip was full; the bow and quiver had been heavily glamoured, just like him, so that no mundane could catch sight of him. Seeing the door swing shut on the demons, he made his way around the back of the club, searching for a back door. Eventually he found one, guarded by an unpleasant-looking werewolf, his face scarred and one of his eyes covered with an eyepatch. Thinking impulsively, Simon picked up one of the heavy rocks lying beside him, and threw it at the window to the werewolf's far right, smashing it with a loud Crack!. He waited until the security guard had run off towards the noise before sprinting towards the back door and bursting through it. On the other side of it was a marble bar, thankfully attended by mundanes. Pushing past a bartender, Simon couldn't help but smile at the confused expression on the boy's face as he glanced around, trying to see who had pushed him before shrugging and moving on. Leaving the area behind the bar, he found himself in walking past tables full of what appeared to be people but at a closer look he saw that they were a mixture of people; fey, weres and werewolves, warlocks, and vampires accompanied by their human subjugates. Hurrying past one table, he saw a fey, her face smooth and pale, long blonde hair tumbling about her shoulders, the tips of her ears curling gently. She winked at him, causing Simon to stumble, much to everyone else's amusement. Continuing to push past the crowd, his face hot, Simon glanced around, looking for the couple. He spotted them, standing outside a booth, chatting with the tall mundane woman he had noticed before. Moving closer, Simon heard a few of the man's words. "Would you like me to show you? It's just outside, near the backdoor. Is it ready, Katie?" he asked, turning to the other demon. She smiled, her teeth flashing bright white. "Yes. Follow me." His hand poised above the arrows at his hip, Simon made to move through the crowd when he was stopped by the same fey woman; she was holding cocktail filled to the brim with a glowing blue liquid. He gulped loudly, shivering from her touch as she placed a hand on his chest. "And where might we be going, little Shadowhunter?" she murmured silkily, grinning. "According to the Cold Peace, fey are forbidden to communicate with Nephilim. Let me pass," he said, trying to sound stern but her amused smiled crushed his attempts. She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from her drink. "Really? And what is so important that I would pass up the opportunity to have a drink with my favourite Shadowhunter?" She collapsed forward against his chest, giggling girlishly, evidently drunk. Glancing past her desperately, Simon saw the greater demons slip out through a side door, followed by the mundane. Pushing the fey away from him, he moved in between the tables, pausing for a moment outside the door and glancing around to make sure no one saw him, opened it and stepped out into the dark alleyway running behind the club. For a moment, he thought that he had gone blind, it was that dark in the alley. Pulling out his witchlight, Simon saw three figures standing clustered together at the end of the alleyway. Moving closer, the witchlight slipped into his pocket, he crept forward blindly towards their voices. "Where is it, Christopher? I haven't got long." "Right here. Turn around." Suddenly, bright light flared, illuminating the three people. The two demons, Katie and Christopher were standing around the mundane, grinning wildly, their mouths open. "No! Look out!" yelled Simon, pulling his bow out and stringing an arrow through it. The mundane glanced at him, her eyes wide open, her mouth open in surprise. She has the Sight, realised Simon, gesturing for her to move out of the way. Seeing him target the arrow at them demons next to her, she ducked down, falling onto the concrete. Hissing unpleasantly, the demons turned on him, eyes blazing with red fire, claws extending from their fingers, gleaming in the bright light above them. "Little Shadowhunter. You shouldn't have come here. Lancelot does not want Nephilim blood. . . yet," said the female greater demon, her face turning grotesque. Holding his bow firm and straight, Simon fired the runed arrows from his quiver, sending it towards her heart. But the next moment, she was gone, jumping up onto the brick wall and clinging to it like a tree frog. The arrow instead buried itself into a rock band poster, tearing a hole in the lead member's face with shocking force. Now the second demon started stalking towards him, his body changing and shifting. Putting another arrow to his bow, Simon raised it to shoot it into the Eidolon demon's heart, when suddenly he felt a blow from behind as all the wind was knocked out of him, sending him sprawling to the ground and his bow clattering away from him into a dark corner. Twisting under his attacker's vice grip, he looked up and saw the female demon's face leering down at him. She was grinning cruelly and her neat white-blonde hair was puffed up around her shoulders in a wild haze. In her hand she was holding a black demon dagger and in the other was a glass vial, pristine clean and gleaming in the moonlight. "Now we will have our Nephilim blood, and the mundane's too. Tristan, prepare the woman for her turn!" she shouted over her shoulder, still keeping a tight grip on Simon. Turning back to him, Simon saw that her teeth weren't ordinary like before but long, needle-thin fangs shining in the dark. Glancing past her, he saw someone who was very familiar to him raise their hand and send a dagger flying towards his assailant's back, piercing it with a loud ripping sound. Feeling the demon's hold on him loosen, he rolled away from it's now shuddering body and pushed himself up, pulling out a dagger, finding himself face to face with. . . "Clary?" She grinned, her silver whip gleaming in the light, joining her parabatai. "Come, on, there's still one more left," she said, casting a disgusted glance at the demon lying on the ground. She was twitching and as Simon looked down at her, the greater demon smiled horribly, her hand still tightly holding the dagger. "Shadowhunters," she spat, her face twisted with hatred, "I told we didn't need your blood yet and still you fought us. But you will never kill demons such as Tristan and Isolde, for we are ever eternal in our love and hatred. King Arthur will rise and kill all Nephilim!" Dropping the dagger, she dropped to the ground and faded away, leaving behind only a few wisps of black smoke and the smell of rotting flesh. Turning around, Simon saw the second demon, Tristan, bending over the mundane who's eyes were rolled upwards showing the milky white of her eyeballs, his talons poised above her throat, thin vines of red blood pouring into the bottle he was holding under her jaw, filling it with her blood. Before he could even do anything, Simon saw a flash of bright silver and then the demon was lying on his side, bleeding from a gash in his side. His hand clamped over the wound the was slowly spreading red over his white suit. Tristan glanced up at the Shadowhunters, his eyes twitching slightly as he laughed wildly, falling to his knees. "Though you have wounded me, it has done nothing other than anger the both of us," and with that he was gone, the bottle rolling to the ground at Clary's feet. She picked up the bottle, completely unharmed. Simon winced, gingerly touching his lower back where he had hit it falling to the ground. "Is there anything we can do to help her?" he asked her, jerking his chin in the direction of the bleeding mundane. Clary handed him her stele before bending down beside her, picking up her wrist and feeling for a pulse. Before he started drawing iratzes on his battered arms, Simon saw her gently lay down the mundane's hand and shake her head slowly, closing her eyes before stepping back. Feeling the numbness in his arms fade, he handed the stele back to Clary and sighed with relief. Now the demons were dead and the sense of exhilaration in battle had left him, he felt extremely exhausted, wanting nothing better than to return to the Institute and fall asleep on his bed, undisturbed by the Shadow World's troubles. As Clary pushed up his shirt up his back, Simon remembered how once he would've given anything to be experiencing this kind of interaction but now he only felt familiarity and friendship. The pain in his back lessened and he flexed his arms, to test them for any damage; there was none. "Is there anything we can use to identify her?" he asked her, turning to face Clary. She looked around thoughtfully, picking up the bottle. "There might something in the pockets and Magnus could test this blood sample. Can you check them?" she asked him, her hands clasped on her stomach, gently rubbing it. Bending down, he quickly put his hand into her coat pocket, trying not to touch her skin. Even though he had been a Shadowhunter for a few years now, Simon still didn't like touching dead people, no matter how many he had seen. Inside, he found a wallet with two credit cards, a thousand dollars and an I.D card. "Who is she?" asked Clary, coming up behind him. He quickly moved away from the dead person and peered down at the small plastic card. On it was the mundane's photo and beside her head were the words 'Isobel Marsell', twenty-nine years of age, born in New York. "But why would they kill a mundane?" Simon asked out loud in thought. Clary shrugged. "They were gathering her blood, maybe they need all Downworlder blood for some sort of ritual?" she suggested, starting to move away down the alleyway. "Probably collecting it for Lancelot. But before you came Isolde - the demon, told me Lancelot would later on need Shadowhunter blood. And probably soon since they've managed to kill a vampire, a werewolf and - did they use Catarina's blood?" he asked suddenly, feeling horror grip his stomach. Clary stopped still, evidently trying to remember something. "I don't know," she whispered, her eyes wide, flashing with green fire. "Assuming they did, all they need is fey and Shadowhunter blood. We need to find Lancelot before he completes whatever ritual he needs. Maybe someone at that club you were in knows about him? Do we go in and ask now or later?" she asked him, starting to move forward again. "Let's go in now. By the way, what were you doing here before you found me?" he added, pushing open the side door. She shrugged. "I had to take a walk. Jace isn't. . . he's fine," Clary said, smiling in fake cheerfulness, moving towards the doorway when suddenly she bent over, falling to her knees on the concrete, doubled over in pain and gasping loudly, her eyes shut and her small hands pressing into her stomach. "Clary! Are you alright? What's wrong?" he demanded, kneeling down beside her. He felt his stomach tighten and his heartbeat quicken. "It's nothing, I'm alright. Just, get me back home please," she murmured, trying to stand up and falling back. Pulling Clary to her feet, he lifted her into his arms - though she was pregnant, she was still extremely light - and sprinted down the alleyway, listening to her as she murmured to herself, stroking her belly: "It's going to be alright, Mama's fine and she'll live. 


	7. Chapter 6

**Tell me, what drove thee from the Table Round**

 _Clary stood in the centre of a ballroom (how she knew that it was a ballroom, she had no idea) and in front of her was a mirror, covering the entire wall, it's glass like swirling liquid. For a moment she could see her reflection in the mirror; she was wearing a silvery-grey dress, flowing around her and covering her feet completely, the sleeves coming down to her elbows. Blue and purple flowers were woven into her hair as it tumbled about her neck and shoulders in fiery red curls. A circlet of silver finely crafted in the form of woven leaves, embedded with clear blue sapphires._

 _Suddenly, the image of her in the mirror disappeared and was replaced by a murky and blurred image. Moving closer, she could make out different men and women in heavy dresses moving around, climbing up and down stairs. Not thinking about what she was doing, Clary reached forward and placed a hand on the mirror's surface. It instantly cleared and she could clearly hear every single word that was being said. She nearly screamed in surprise; a woman, almost exactly like her, but with blue eyes stood before her, examining herself in the mirror. Leaning forward, Clary watched her closely, shocked._

"Isabella, is the King back from his hunt yet?"

A tall blonde woman, her eyes golden, came up beside the redhead, and shook her head.

"Not yet my Queen. But Sir Lancelot," she added in murmur, smiling slightly, "wishes to see you most urgently."

" _This is Guinevere, the one that looks like me," Clary thought to herself, fascinated by what she saw before her._

The Queen clapped her hands, her face lit up in pure happiness.

"Now?" she asked, turning away from the mirror. Isabella nodded, almost imperceptibly and lifted a hand, a hidden gesture in what direction to go before following Guinevere up a wide marble staircase.

 _For a moment, the picture blurred, coming back into focus a moment later; this time, Guinevere was standing in the middle of a small room, the walls of which were hung with red velvet tapestries showing knights slaying dragons. Clary noticed they had tattoos of swirling black lines etched all over their skin. . . also most as if they were Shadowhunter Marks. She thought about what Guinevere could've meant when she said 'hunt'. Maybe they went out demon-hunting. Most likely they were hunting for Downworlders. Looking into the room, Clary saw that this was probably in some medieval period, when the Accords hadn't been written and signed so it would've been perfectly legal for them to hunt Downworlders. Shivering at the thought of someone stabbing Magnus in the heart, she turned back to the mirror, eagerly watching to see what would happen next._

 _Guinevere was sitting at a small wooden desk, leaning against it as she stared off into the distance, obviously mulling over some serious problem. She was startled from her thoughts by the sound of the door opening and closing, admitting into the room a tall, young man, his blue eyes shining. "Lancelot," Clary whispered, surprised at how handsome he was, how humanly ordinary his eyes looked without the burning red circles he now had._

"My love, you are here. I thought you had gone with Arthur," Guinevere murmured, a gentle smile moving across her face.

 _Lancelot was standing in the doorway, staring at the Queen with a loving gaze that made Clary slightly sick, remembering how he had looked at her when she had entered his apartment._

She watched as Lancelot swiftly crossed the room, taking Guinevere into his arms and gazing down at her. "I have news for you, my angel, but first I need to do something . . .," he broke off, bending down and putting his lips to the crook of her neck. Guinevere shivered slightly and raised her hands to Lancelot's hair, weaving them in it and smiling wider. "What news do you have for me?" she asked him so quietly that Clary had to bend forward until the tip of her nose was touching the surface of the magic mirror. Lancelot sighed as he raised his eyes to Guinevere's face, trying to decide whether to tell her what was troubling him or not.

"My Queen, I'm afraid that I must leave you. As you know my son, Sir Galahad has located the Holy Grail but only with my experience and the support of some other knights he will definitely survive the dangers. We will leave tonight, before the King returns, for if he knew he would certainly never allow us to go and his pet warlock, Magnus Bane, is constantly on the lookout. I cannot understand how a noble Nephilim may allow himself to raise a _warlock_ to the high position of King's adviser-" he broke off, gently stroking the Queen's cheek as he smiled sadly down at her.

"But Merlin, what about him?" asked Guinevere, her eyes searching his face.

 _Clary felt as if she shouldn't be there, shouldn't be seeing this intimate moment between two people but pure curiosity overruled everything, keeping her fastened to the mirror._

"Merlin, Merlin's different, a mere mundane who stepped to Ascension and became a Silent Brother. That's acceptable, but Bane's a born _warlock._ His father is Asmodeus. But that is not something we should be discussing right now; my point is that I will be leaving soon. In fact, I believe that time has come now, my love."

Tears shimmered in Guinevere's eyes. "Where will you go?"

Lancelot shook his head, smiling a little. "I can't tell you. Goodbye, my Queen," he murmured, drawing away from her as she stood in the centre of the room, her hanging limply by her sides as she stared off into the distance as Lancelot left the room, leaving the door open behind him.

 _Feeling Guinevere's sadness, Clary saw the mirror's image blur and felt a sudden magnetic force pulling her back. Stretching her arms out as if to stop herself from being moved away, Clary heard voices murmuring inside her head as everything darkened._

"Clary, wake up. . . wake up, it's me, Jace."

 _Hearing that Jace was near her, maybe reaching out to touch her, she had an instant flashback of the black bruise-welt on his wrist. With the sensation of drawing her head out of a bucket of cold water, Clary closed her eyes, the darkness closing in around her._

"Clary! It's me Jace!"

She woke up, lying on a small bed in her and Jace's Institute bedroom, still wearing her ichor-stained clothes. Standing around her were Jocelyn, Luke and Aylwin. Simon was leaning against the wall, next to the door, as if guarding it against enemies. Jace was sitting on Clary's bed, reaching for her hand. The picture of his black welted wrist still fresh in her mind, she jerked her hand back, more hastily than she had wanted to. A look of hurt loomed across Jace's face, filling her head with a sudden numbness. Watching him as he got up and left the room, Clary felt a sudden feeling of hurt growing in her chest. She pushed it down as Jocelyn moved to sit next to her, smiling cheerfully.

"Are you okay, Clary?" she asked, taking her daughter's hand up in hers and Clary was relieved to see that there was no welt-like mark on her fingers.

She nodded, feeling Jocelyn's cool fingers in hers. "What happened? All I remember was killing Tristan and Isolde before everything blacked out."

"Biscuit, you do know that Tristan and Isolde are fictional characters and the only way you can kill them is by destroying all the books, poems and songs written about them," said Magnus, stepping out of the corner and startling Clary. Feeling slightly more relaxed now that she knew he was here, she rolled her eyes and leaned back into the pillows.

"No, what I mean is that those two demons we fought were Eidolon Greater demons, who called themselves Tristan and Isolde. Also, I had a strange dream. . ."

"Maybe these dreams explain what happened to Lancelot," suggested Simon, rubbing his eyes. Clary could see how tired he had become over a couple of days. "So I should carry on dreaming them until we know exactly what happened?" she asked, crossing her arms over thoughtfully. "But if it's dangerous, how will we save you?" Aylwin asked, the adult-like tone and manner completely gone, his blue eyes wide and scared. Clary reached out and placed a hand on his head, gently stroking Aylwin's blonde hair. She smiled even though she could understand his fright. "You won't need to save me. But I need to have a private conversation with you, Aylwin," she said pointedly, looking at the rest of the people around her. Luke grinned, waving to them before leaving the bedroom, followed by Jocelyn. Magnus hesitated in the doorway, grinning widely. "Afterwards, Aylwin, I need to talk with you as well. Ta-ta, biscuit," he called over his shoulder, wiggling his fingers at them and making the small boy laugh.

"Why does he call you biscuit?" he asked her, turning his blue eyes up to Clary's face. She smiled, still stroking his hair. It was soft and fluffy, despite looking dirty and rough. "Remind me to give you a bath later," she said, taking hold of his small hands. "What do you want to talk to me about?" Aylwin asked her, still looking frightened. "Did you know your parents well?" She didn't want to spring the news on him; Jace would always tell her how she needed to use more tact and now she was finally listening to his advice. Seeing the hurt and anger in Jace's expression, the way he had angrily left the room, made her head spin a little. Aylwin shook his head, his blonde locks swishing around his head. "I never knew my Dad and Mum died. She was a warlock, at least, that's what the ward at the child home told me," he said, sounding bitter. "What child home?" Clary asked, keeping the conversation going. "The one I used to go to when I needed food. Otherwise I used to sleep in the park," he explained casually, smiling half-heartedly. "But how could your Mum be a warlock if warlock's can't give birth?" she asked, remembering reading something about it in the _Shadowhunter Codex_. Aylwin stared at her and Clary couldn't but shrug apologetically, like a boy awkwardly telling his best mate that his dog had died. "Did you know that?" she asked him again gently, lowering her hand. "No, I didn't. Is this why you wanted to talk with me?" he asked her suddenly, his gaze clearing and becoming sharp, defiant, stunning Clary; she couldn't make out the vulnerable, sweet little boy who had told her about her life. He was. . . almost like Jace in a sense. "No, I didn't. Aylwin, would you like it if Jace and I adopted you?"

His reaction wasn't the one she had expected; instead of staring at her in horror and rapidly shaking his head, Aylwin's face split into a wide grin, his eyes sparkling happily. He flung himself around Clary, who stared at him for a moment before gently wrapping her arms around him. She had never felt so happy in her life, (except from her wedding day and the day Jace proposed to her) and as she beamed down at the small head of blonde hair, Clary felt the same strange maternal protectiveness she had felt before. "Let's go clean you up now," she murmured, gently lifting Aylwin off the bed and climbing out from under the bedcovers. Aylwin firmly gripping her hand, she walked out into the hallway, her lower back hurting a little. Pushing open the bathroom door, she strode over to the bath tub and switched on both of the the taps, letting the water wash away the rogue hairs and dust particles that clung to the sides of the bath tub. Sticking the plug in, she watched the water lap gently against the sides of the smooth sides of the tub.

Glancing around, Clary couldn't help but wonder at how Jace's monk-like neatness hadn't reached the Institute bathroom but then again, her characteristic messiness probably overpowered whatever shreds of tidiness there had been in the bathroom. An oval mirror hung above the bathroom sink, while a tube of peppermint toothpaste with a half screwed on lid lay on the sink's pale blue surface. The walls of the bathroom were a dark sea-blue and near the floor, a border of cream-coloured seashells lined the walls. At one end of the room stood a white cupboard, where they stored towels and bathroom supplies.

Looking back down at the bath tub, she quickly turned off the taps, sighing with relief as the hot water stopped at the edge of the tub, not spilling out onto the bathroom tiles. "Okay Aylwin, the water's ready-" Clary broke off, realising what she had been about to say; feeling herself blush, she swallowed, trying to think what to say. Aylwin was looking up at her, confused at her sudden embarrassment. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Clary gratefully rushed over to open it, thinking it was Jocelyn, relieved at the unexpected interruption. Opening the bathroom door, she jumped, not expecting to see Jace standing there, looking so cheerful and unbothered.  
"Jace?" she asked him, her eyes wide.

"Clary, I wanted to talk with you about what happened. What are you doing here anyway?" he inquired, smiling down at Aylwin as he shyly came up beside Clary, holding on to her shirt. "I was going to give him a wash in the tub but there's a small problem," she added in whisper, stepping out of the bathroom and pulling Jace aside as Aylwin watched them curiously, leaning against the doorframe. "What is it?" he asked her, worry starting to grow in his face. Feeling a headache coming on, she raised a hand to her forehead, still blushing. "Well I've never washed an eight-year old boy and I think it'll be kinda awkward for me to do it. . ." She trailed off, seeing the worry being replaced with a wide smirk. "But if I asked you to give me a wash, would you?" Jace joked, clasping his hands together and Clary saw that he was holding back from reaching out and touching her. She wouldn't have been able to bare seeing the recoil of anger on his face again. Her headache growing bigger, she waved a hand dismissively. "Just give him a wash please and then come downstairs, I'll order something to eat," she called over her shoulder, moving off towards the staircase. "Yes ma'am!" Jace jested, entering the bathroom and closing it behind him.

When Clary was halfway down the staircase, she suddenly felt the pain in her head explode and she felt as if her skull was being cracked in half. Sinking down onto her knees from the pain, Clary cried out, hearing voices murmuring downstairs.

"Mum!" she yelled, her eyes squeezed shut.

 _An image flashed through her mind; Guinevere standing outside a small iron-wrought gate, her hand raised in farewell as she watched a small troop of horses set off into the distance. At the head of them rode Lancelot, wearing his silver armour, his white horse standing out like a sore thumb in the darkness. Above her the moon hung high, shining down on them. In her head, she could hear Lancelot's voice whispering gently:_

" _My love, my Guinevere, I will be back for you. I will be back."_

"Clary, Clary what happened?"

Jocelyn's voice pierced through the pictures in her mind, bringing her back to reality. Pushing herself off the cold stairs she was kneeling on, Clary smiled at her Mum, who was peering at her with extreme worry, feeling the pain in her head lessen. "What happened?" Jocelyn asked, leading her down the stairs, firmly holding her up. "I don't know but I want pizza, lots of it. Pepperoni," she said hoarsely, feeling a deep demon hunger welling up inside her. Jocelyn smiled, pushing into the kitchen.

"Okay, but this is the last time you eat pizza during your pregnancy, it's unhealthy. Also, about earlier; you'd collapsed because of this child you're carrying. We need to have Magnus check what's unusual with this one," Jocelyn informed her casually, sitting Clary down at the table and picking up the phone.

 _What's unusual with this one_. She felt the feeling of protectiveness return. How could anyone think that her child was a freak, a mutant? The pressed down frustration building up inside her, Clary picked up a glass of water and slammed it down onto the counter with more force than she had meant to, the glass shattering to small pieces. She jumped up with surprise, her frustration immediately gone. Jocelyn however, just raised an eyebrow and hung up the phone.

"Pizza's on its way," she declared, cleaning away the broken glass expertly as Clary sank down into her chair. "Do you know where Alec and Magnus are?" she asked trying to ignore the feeling of horror at her own anger. "They went back to Magnus' apartment and Simon's staying at Isabelle's tonight. Where are Jace and Aylwin?" she inquired, plonking herself down next to Clary. "Jace's giving him a bath. We decided to adopt Aylwin, Mum," she announced, feeling reassured by her smile. "Did you ask him if he wanted adoptive parents?" Jocelyn questioned her, frowning a little. Clary nodded, pleased at the small boy's happy reaction. "Well, we still need to get you checked up," her Mum reminded, sipping from her glass of lemonade. There was the sudden sound of footsteps on the staircase and moment later Jace, Aylwin hosted up onto his shoulders, both of them grinning wildly, appeared in the kitchen doorway. The change in Aylwin's appearance stunned Clary and Jocelyn for a few moments; his hair, which had been dirty and tangled, if soft, before was now a clear pale blonde, at least three shades lighter than it had been earlier. He looked fresher as well and his skin was actually a pleasant golden tanned colour. Aylwin's blue eyes sparkled as Jace gently set him down onto the floor, watching happily as he hurried over to Clary, burying his face in her stomach. "Aylwin, this is your new grandmother, Jocelyn," she introduced, tucking her hand under his chin and lifting it up. He smiled shyly before stepping back and jumping up onto a chair. "Hi there dearie," she smiled back, standing up at the sound of the Institute's doorbell ringing. "That's probably the pizza," she said, quickly hurrying out of the kitchen. Jace smirked, moving out of the way for her to pass. "Last time you said something like that, we were attacked by a bunch of demons," he joked, coming up behind Aylwin. Clary rolled her eyes, not hiding the smile that played across her lips. "Can you teach me how to fight demons too?" Aylwin asked eagerly, leaning forward. Jace placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling half-heartedly. "I can teach you how to throw a knife, that much I can promise you," he murmured, his free hand hovering unconsciously over the Marks on arms. Clary knew he was thinking what she was; if Aylwin really was a warlock, then the stele would kill him instantly, or drive him mad. Not something they wanted. "Are you going to have a daughter or a boy?" he asked suddenly, looking back and forth between them, his face lit up in a happy smile. Clary, momentarily frightened at the upcoming prospect of childbirth, froze. She was rescued by Jace, who quickly sat down next to Aylwin and ruffled his hair. "We don't know yet, Al' but soon we'll be able to find out." At that moment, Jocelyn came in through the door, carrying a huge pizza box, from which came the tempting smell of mozzarella and tomato sauce. Setting them down on the counter, she planted her hands on her hips and grinned, speaking to Aylwin. "It's 9:30 and high time you went to bed. Take at least six slices of pizza and let's go upstairs, I've got a few bedtime stories that I need to test out." Aylwin glanced up at them with confusion. "Do I go and take _six_ slices with me like she said?" he asked them dubiously, making Jace laugh out loud.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

They watched as Aylwin slipped six slices onto his plate before shuffling out of the kitchen, holding it out in front of him.

"What is it you wanted to talk about Jace?" Clary asked, leaning across the table to get a pizza slice for herself, stopped short by her swollen stomach. Jace deftly opened the box and took out a slice, waving it temptingly before her. "I think we should talk about what we're going to name the baby. Any ideas?" he asked, moving it out of the way as she tried to snatch it off him. Sighing with annoyance, Clary stalked around the table and took the pizza box with her to the other side, shoving a pizza slice in her mouth, pushing down the painful hunger. Jace watched her as she quickly chewed through it before answering. "If it's a girl, then maybe something unusual, like Magdalene?" she asked gently, seeing his eyes grow darker. He shook his head. "Definitely not. What about Cassandra?" Jace suggested, pouring himself some wine. Finishing her pizza slice, Clary made a noise of disagreement. "How about Rowena. I can imagine her, with long blonde hair and green eyes, smiling up at us. Ro could be her nickname," she fantasised, starting on another slice. Jace shrugged, watching as Clary hungrily ate it, sipping from his wine glass. "Ro it is then, but what if it's a boy? What will we name it then?" he asked her, offering the wine to her. Clary shook her head and closed the pizza box, passing it to Jace. He opened it expectantly, before closing it again and and smirked, sighing in mock frustration. "How did you manage to eat a whole box of pizza in a few seconds?" Jace inquired, chuckling under his breath. Clary felt herself blush as she opened her mouth in protest. "Aylwin and Mum took three pieces each!" Waving aside her objections dismissively, Jace shrugged. "Whatever. We need to decide on a name if it's a boy," he pressed on eagerly, even though his pose was relaxed, she could see how concentrated he was on their conversation. She thought for a moment of all the boys names she had ever known of. _Ben, Tom, Bob, Michael, James._ "How about Jason?" Clary suggested remembering how in her elementary school there had been a pretty dark-haired boy called Jason. Jace considered it for a moment, finally nodding and getting up from the table. Clary frowned, a nauseous feeling slowly growing in her stomach, making her head spin a little. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, raising his hand before lowering it again, biting his lip nervously. Clary began to say something when suddenly the sick feeling erupted into her mouth, filling it with an unpleasantly tasting mushy food. Clamping her hand to her mouth and screwing up her nose in disgust, she rushed upstairs, pushing past Jace as she sprinted away.

"Do you feel better now?"

By the time Jace had made his way upstairs to their bedroom, Clary had already flushed her mushed up pizza dinner down the toilet, changed into her and was reading the Pregnancy Guide, huddled up against the wall. She didn't want to be woken up in the night by Jace's screams as he stared at her, watching the bruises on his hands swell, looking at her with horror and disgust. _What if, when she had been talking to Lancelot or fighting Tristan and Isolde, they had somehow managed to inject demonic energies into her, poisoning her so that she couldn't touch Jace without hurting him. Probably something Lancelot was going to use against her._ "Clary?" he asked, pulling off his shirt. Startled from her thoughts, she smiled hastily. "What? Yeah, I'm better," she muttered distractedly, flipping over the page. A large picture, placed in the centre of the page, showed a Silent Brother, bent over a lying down woman, her stomach cut open and covered in blood, ceramic bowls labelled 'kidneys', 'intestines' and 'spleen'. Even though she had nothing left to throw up, Clary felt nauseous but it was immediately overpowered by the feeling of sheer horror and terror. Clamping a hand over her mouth, her eyes blurring over, she felt hot tears pouring down her cheeks and dripping off her hand.

"Clary?!" cried Jace, rushing over to her and pressing a hand behind her back, pulling her to him. His hands were hot and Clary felt her spine instantly warmed by his touch.

Realising he was touching her, she pulled her hand away from her mouth and moved away from him, backing up against the wall. Suddenly, he was pinning her to the wall, his lean stomach gently pushing against her swollen belly. Jace's breath came in ragged gasps and his eyes were dark. Clary felt even more frightened than before; she had never seen him like this. Turning her head to the right, she tried to move to the side but Jace immediately raised a hand to the wall, caging her in from both sides. Facing him, she wiped the tears from her face, trying to stay calm. "I'm fine. Can you let me go please?" she pleaded, seeing his angry expression. He shook his head. "Why won't you touch me? Have you got someone else? _Already?"_ his voice was bitter, with a hint of cold amusement. Anger welled up inside Clary as she glared at him, struck by his phrase.

"What do you mean, _already?_ Is this what you think of me, Jace? That I, after two weeks of marriage, have started cheating on you, when I'm obviously pregnant with _your_ child?" she demanded, wiping angrily at her face again as more tears poured down her cheeks. Jace shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. "I don't know what to think. Why won't you touch me then?" he persisted and Clary saw his eyes water. Feeling a horrid guilt, she raised a hand and gently tapped him on his upper arm. "This is why I can't touch you," she whispered, watching as his face went from confusion to pain as he yelped loudly and jumped back, gripping his arm. Now that she could no longer injure him by accidentally brushing against his arms, Clary felt all her bones melt as she relaxed completely, her chin falling on her chest. There was a silence and she could clearly hear Jace gasping in pain.

"Well do you hate me now? Do you think I'm a monster, a demon who should be killed?" she finally asked him, her voice devoid of any hope. _How could he love her now that he knew she, the future mother of his potential kid, was infected with demon powers?_

"Clary, can you please look at me?" His voice was so desperate and quiet that she unwillingly glanced up, hot tears still pricking at the corners of her eyes. Jace's eyes weren't the dark-maple-syrup colour they had been before, but their usual golden shade. He was lying on his back, leaning on his elbows and smiling as if this all amused him. "I don't think it's you, Clary. I think it might be me, from the injury that Lancelot gave me," he began, wincing a little as he touched the wound on his chest, "and the only reason your touch burns me is because you're so holy and pure, so like an angel that I can't touch you. Not you, me."

Seeing his reassuring smile, Clary felt like she couldn't help but believe him. Feeling the light of hope grow in her, she pushed off from the wall, surprised at how hard she found it. "We need to get someone to check out this baby," she muttered, slipping underneath the covers. Jace nodded, joining her but not touching her. "Who's going to be the godfather?" he asked suddenly, just as Clary started to fall asleep. Immediately, the image of Magnus, with a small baby sitting in his lap, giggling happily. As darkness crept in on her, Clary managed to whisper a few words before her head fell back onto the pillow.

"Magnus."

Aylwin, after eating sharing six slices of pizza with Jocelyn, had settled down into his bed. The room he was sleeping in was a fairly-sized, even though Aylwin would've been perfectly happy in a tiny broom cupboard room. He had never ever had one before, never owned anything other than his father's dagger. At least, that's what the matron at the child home had told him. Jocelyn had left after telling him a fairytale, 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves'. Aylwin had never heard of it before but he still enjoyed it, feeling like he had never had before; his hair was washed and shampooed, his skin was smooth and clean and the warm bed covers around him smelled fresh. Falling back against the pillows, his attention was caught by a sudden movement at the window. Instantly alerted, his hand flew to the dagger lying on his bedside table, and slipping his weapon back underneath the covers, pretended that he was asleep, snoring a little under his breath. Aylwin's felt the blood rush to his ears and a loud pounding slowly overwhelmed him as he watched a shadowy figure, face hidden in the shadows. Slowly and silently, Aylwin saw the unknown figure reach out and slowly place a small stone on the window; it instantly stuck to the glass like a fly to honey, and Aylwin, feeling horror well up inside him as the window glass slowly covered with a thick layer of what could've been water; it was flowing and the moonlight shining through it came in small ripples, playing on the bedroom walls. The same hand that had placed the stone on the window now slowly reached back up towards the liquid-like glass, and Aylwin couldn't help but gasp quietly as the figure's hand passed through the glass and slipped forward into the room, clenching and unclenching, as if trying to grab something. For a moment, it was still before the figure stood up and stepped forward confidently, entering the bedroom as silently as they had been before. Suddenly, the rippled moonlight fell onto his face and Aylwin got a clear view of it, recognising him as the merman Jace had pretended to be; it was Xyrden. He was wearing a long black trench coat that went all the way down to the floor, rustling a little when he moved. A black cap perched on his head and he hastily pulled it down over his face, reaching back out through the window, retrieving the stone he had placed there. Tightening his grip on the dagger, Aylwin tensed as Xyrden slowly approached the bed, whipping out a rope from his coat pocket, twisting it around his knuckles menacingly. He waited until the merman was leering over him, slowly lowering his fingers down to his face, before springing up and darting away from the bed, the dagger raised. "What are you doing here?" he cried, trying to alert Jocelyn of their unexpected guest. Silently, Xyrden lunged forward, like a tiger, his long white teeth bared. Time seemed to slow for Aylwin as he saw his leering face near him, the black cap flying off and landing under the bed somewhere. Panic gripped him, freezing him in place.

" _Do something. . . now!"_ cried a small voice at the back of his head. Glancing down at the dagger in his hand, Aylwin felt strength shoot through him giving him confidence. Raising his arm, he drew back the dagger and let it fly towards Xyrden's chest, moving out of the way as the huge merman tumbled past him, the dagger stuck in his arm. Feeling slightly sick, Aylwin scooted back, accidentally tripping over the carpet on the floor. Propping himself up on his elbows, he kept moving back towards the wall until he was leaning against it, watching Xyrden from across the room as he stared down at his arm with surprise. _He's never been stabbed before,_ he realised. Instead of collapsing like Jace had, the merman was silently observing the dagger and Aylwin gasped with shock; instead of red blood or even black ichor pouring from Xyrden's wound and covering it in blood, a green gummy substance that looked a little like jelly was sludging down to his wrist, filling the room with the smell of rotting flesh. As if remembering that Aylwin was there, Xyrden glanced away from his wound, grinning down at the eight-year old with pure delight.

"You're surprised I'm not dead yet?" he asked suddenly and his voice came out in a low rasp, his eyes a stormy blue. Even though he was frozen to the spot, Aylwin slowly nodded, his hand grappling at his side, looking for something he could use as a weapon. "If you come with me, Lancelot will tell you. He'll make you powerful like me, immortal. Come with me." Now his voice was smooth, almost gentle and for a few moments, Aylwin felt like just standing up and following Xyrden, disappearing from the Institute without anyone knowing. But the door was suddenly flung open, banging loudly as it did; in the doorway stood Jace, his blonde hair tousled and a dagger gleaming in his hand. Xyrden spun around with a hiss, his face contorted in hatred.

"Shadowhunter. You would fight the servant of the one who's power contaminates you? Turn your hand against your own source of energy and life? Lancelot does not like being betrayed, but don't worry, soon you will be put to good use," and with that, he was gone, the window snapping shut with a click.

While he had been facing off Xyrden, not wanting to show his weaknesses, Aylwin had been strong, his gaze defiant as he leaned against the wall, poised to rise. Now, as he slowly pushed himself up, he felt his knees turn to jelly and he stumbled across the room, falling into Jace, hot tears pouring down his cheeks. "He wanted to take me with him, to Lancelot an-and make me immortal, like him," Aylwin managed to say, his voice quivering. He had been so close to just giving up and going with Xyrden, despite the fact that he would probably be killed and never found. Then it had seemed like the perfect idea, where nothing could possibly go from but now Aylwin was disgusted with how easily he was to persuade, to manipulate. Making a mental note to himself that he would never again open up to anyone who wasn't a member of his new family, he let Jace pick him up and carry him out of the room, locking it behind them.

"Don't worry," he murmured reassuringly, and Aylwin could sense the warm smile in his voice as he slowly began to close his eyes, his sleepiness crashing into him like a train.

"He's gone now. He's gone."

"So what did he say?" Clary asked, munching on her third pickle as they gathered round the kitchen table, digesting what Jace had told them about last night. She felt the same feeling of deep hunger right from the marrow of her bones return and noisily swallowing the final piece she reached out towards the jar, pulling out another pickle. Simon raised and eyebrow and Jocelyn quickly took hold of the few remaining pickles and put them away in the fridge, smiling in a way that didn't quite reach her eyes. Jace pushed the untidy hair back from his forehead and Clary could see that it was dark with sweat. In fact, Jace didn't look healthy at all; there were dark circles under his eyes that hadn't been there the night before when he had asked her why she wouldn't touch him. This morning, she had woken up early and found him curled up beside her, Aylwin tucked in between them and Clary couldn't help but think that he was using the small boy as a barrier so that there was no chance of her touching him.

It hurt a little.

With a sigh, he took a large sip of his coffee, not his usual latte but a unsweet long black, hot and bitter. "He said that Lancelot contaminated me, gave me energy for living and that he would soon put me to good use. I don't know what he meant by that but it obviously has to do with this," he told them, placing a hand over his knife wound. Jocelyn frowned, passing Simon plate of her homemade cookies. He took one before passing it on to Isabelle, who shook her head and passed it back, declining it politely. Clary grinned inwardly, remembering how she had first tried on of those cookies; the taste of faerie sugar and chocolate was incredibly sweet, giving her a two-hour lasting migraine and the only person who tolerated them was Simon. "We need to talk to the Silent Brothers about this. And I also want to have a look in the library to check what Lancelot means when he said, the 'Immoral Grail'. As far as I know, there's only one Grail and it was holy," announced Jocelyn, looking pointedly at Clary as if asking her to stay behind. Feeling torn, Clary looked down at her glass of water, trying to decide; on one hand, she wanted to stay behind with Jocelyn and talk to her about everything that was happening, about the dream she had but on the other hand, Clary needed to be there with Jace when the Silent Brothers explored his mind, draining him of power. Glancing back up, she found herself staring straight into Jocelyn's bright green eyes, reflecting herself in them.

"Mum, I need to go with Jace." That said everything and Clary could tell that she understood her reasons. Sighing deeply, she got up from the table and put her own empty cup into the sink. "Then you better get goin, I told Brother Enoch that you'd be there at 11:00. The car should be here now," she informed them, referring to the carriage that the Silent Brothers used for transportation, disguised as a black limo. Simon jumped into action, practically throwing his cup into the sink beside Jocelyn's, standing outside the kitchen door. "I'll help you with the research, and Isabelle can go with you two. Let's get cracking," and with that being said, he rushed away, and a few moments they all heard him fling open a door before slamming it loudly. Clary glanced over at Isabelle, who gazed back stonily, her face blank. Even though over the past week she had been colder and less like herself than usual but now she was acting completely indifferent to anything that concerned her. The only thing she was interested by was helping out with the investigation and finding Lancelot, retaining a mild interest for Simon. Silently, Clary got up from the table and walked out of the kitchen towards the hallway, followed by Jace and Isabelle, while Jocelyn remained in the kitchen. As she was helped into her coat, Clary turned to Jace, feeling herself frown at his tired state, watching him slowly shrug on a light jacket, disinterested. "Are you okay?" she asked him, helping Isabelle with her sleeve. When Jace glanced up at her, Clary expected him to smile reassuringly as he usually did when he wasn't in the best mood but instead he shrugged depressingly, the fire in his dark eyes dampened. "Yeah," he murmured disinterestedly, pushing open the Institute door, a sudden gush of cold air rushing into the hall. As they moved out onto the street, Clary couldn't help but feel that Jace's current depression had nothing to do with seeing the Silent Brothers.

" _So what is the problem?"_ Brother Enoch asked, not moving from his seat at the long table place before Jace and Clary, while Isabelle leaned against the wall next to the doorway, as if to make sure no one escaped. Clary winced inwardly, seeing the look of disappointment on Jace's face; he obviously thought that because he was poisoned that he would be judged and despised by all Shadowhunters. _That's why he's so depressed: He thinks Lancelot's turned him evil, like Sebastian,_ she realised, feeling an overwhelming sense of protection rush over her. _Lancelot did this on purpose; he knew that Jace would slowly separate himself from us and believe that he was becoming a demon. Maybe he needs to use him and this is the most satisfying thing for him._

"Lancelot stabbed him and now there's some sort of demonic presence in him. Also, I need to talk with you later on something. . . different," added Clary, feeling her cheeks flame up. Even though she couldn't see his face, she got the faint suspicion that Brother Enoch was amused. Jace sat in his chair, straight ahead as if thinking deeply about something. Even though she was quite pregnant and a little tired, Clary still felt that she had to protect Jace, standing behind his chair, a hand place on the back of the chair. She had to bite her lip, drawing blood, to restrain herself from touching him, running a hand through his hair and smooth it flat.

" _And you want us to extract it?"_ continued Brother Enoch, not rising from his chair. Clary nodded, seeing Jace stiffen. But he still said nothing. " _Very well. Brother Henry, can you begin the procedure?"_ From what she had thought was a dark, empty corner emerged a tall figure, dressed in the parchment-coloured that all Silent Brothers wore. _Probably a new recruit_ , she thought to herself, watching as Henry glided over to them, planting himself before Jace. There was something human about him, more human than Jem had been when he was still Nephilim and Clary couldn't help but wonder how old he was.

" _Stand up please."_ Even his voice was different, not smooth and expressionless like Enoch's or cool with a hint of kindness like Jem's. Henry's voice was a normal human voice, cheerful and with a hint of some sort of British accent. For a moment, Clary was so shocked at this. . . ordinariness, that she just stood and stared as Jace slowly rose from his chair and was led out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

"Do you want me to leave?" Isabelle abruptly asked, unhitching herself from the smooth marble wall and blankly gazing from Brother Enoch to Clary. Sensing that this would be a private conversation, the Silent Brother nodded slightly, speaking only when Isabelle had left, closing the other door.

" _You wish to discuss the abnormal symptoms of your pregnancy?"_ Clary nodded, placing a protective hand on her tummy. "I don't know why it's like this, it isn't meant to grow so fast and so big and it's only been a week. Is there something wrong with me?" she asked, spilling her thoughts. Not seeing any sign of movement from Brother Enoch, she firmly closed her mouth, pressing her together tightly. For a moment, a long agonising moment, the Silent Brother sat still, evidently thinking something over; when he spoke next, he sounded unsure. " _I believe that you might be pregnant with a Mortal Angel. A girl."_ Clary jerked forward in her seat, shocked. "Did you say angel?" she spluttered, slightly irritated by Enoch's stillness. " _Yes. I am not completely sure of it but there are tests that you can go through to determine if my suspicions are correct. Would you like to take them?"_ he asked, opening up the book that had just appeared before him. Feeling too shocked to say anything, Clary just nodded, her hands lying limply in her lap. " _I don't have the correct instruments with me now so you will need to come back next week on Tuesday. But I imagine you are curious as to the nature of your child?"_ Again she nodded, her mouth still closed. Pausing on a page, Brother Enoch read from it before speaking. " _A Mortal Angel is a child of two Nephilim who are more than half-angel half-mundane. They are an angel that is not immortal, but may live until the age of one hundred. The powers and abilities of an a Mortal Angel make them stronger, faster, fairer and smarter than all Nephilim, while preserving the essence of humanity. Each Mortal Angel has their own signature mark but unlike a warlock's mark, it is not supernatural or hideous, merely their changing eye colour, or extreme beauty. Mortal Angles are incredibly rare and hard to create. Does that bring you happiness?"_ He asked her gently. Clary couldn't help but smile, releasing the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Suddenly, the feeling of dread returned. "What happened to all the other Mortal Angels?" she asked the Silent Brother, her breath catching. For a moment, Enoch didn't reply, as if hesitant to tell her but it only made her even more nervous. " _Every single Mortal Angel that had ever existed died young, as a sacrifice to save this dimension from demons. It is written in their fate. Jesus was one of them. Most live until they reach adulthood."_ Clary felt her throat run dry as her heart sank, stopping momentarily before starting to beat again, faster than ever. A sudden pain erupted in her head and throwing her hands up to her head as if to stop it, Clary felt herself fall off the chair, hitting her knees on the hard marble floor. An instant later, the door that Jace had left through burst open and in ran Jace, followed by Henry. Isabelle was nowhere to be found. She saw Jace reach for her before quickly drawing back, a look of hurt on his face and Clary could tell that he was barely holding himself back, all signs of his earlier depression gone. Strong muscular arms wrapped around her, pulling her off the floor. Glancing up, Clary saw Henry's hooded figure lifting her up. As they passed through a doorway, his hood suddenly fell back, revealing his handsome face; long brown hair, with golden blonde tips, a pair of almond-shaped green eyes and a strong jaw. A cut, quite fresh-looking, stood out on his tanned cheek like a bruise. Startled by this human face, Clary gasped, before the pain swallowed her up and she fell into darkness.

Simon frowned, dropping the book he had been reading back onto it's shelf. "Found anything yet?" he asked Jocelyn, moving onto to the next one. She shook her head. "Other than the traditional fairy tales, nothing. Maybe it was written in some Shadowhunter records? The knights were Nephilim after all," she murmured, lowering her finger down the page, her green eyes darting over the words. Suddenly, Simon remembered Isolde's words. " _Now we have our Nephilim blood and the mundane's too."_ Turning back to Jocelyn, he felt a smile growing across his face. "Jocelyn, are there any rituals that require blood from all the races, faerie, shadowhunter, werewolf, vampire and mundane?" he asked her rapidly, watching her impatiently as she flipped through her book, skim reading. Watching her tensely, Simon had to stop himself from crying out as she jumped up, staring wide-eyed at the book. "Look!" she said, waving it at him. As Simon rushed over to her, Jocelyn sat down in the armchair standing in the corner, the book laid out on her lap. "If a member of the Shadow World manages to gather the blood of a nephilim, mundane, faerie, werewolf and vampire before the full moon, they will be able to perform the sacrifice ritual that changes them into a Greater Demon. When's the next full moon?" she asked and Simon quickly raced over to the lunar calendar that hung on the wall, his heart pounding loudly, the feeling of horror slowly welling up inside. Seeing the date on the calendar, he slowly turned around, feeling his throat grow dry. "This Sunday. Jocelyn, we've only got three days left!" he cried, his eyes wide. She stared at him, too shocked to say anything. Suddenly, the hallway outside erupted into sound; pushing open the library door, Simon saw a tall young man, his eyes a bright green colour and his hair brown with blonde tips wearing Silent Brother robes, speaking quietly to Brother Enoch. Actually speaking and using his mouth, acting like a normal human. He was carrying Clary, who looked really grey and sick, her arms dangling loosely by her sides. Jace was trailing behind them, his face glum, completely unbothered by everything that was happening, which surprised Simon, who had expected him to be carrying Clary. "What happened," he asked, watching as Clary's head lolled to the side. "Where's Isabelle?" added Simon, noticing she wasn't there. No one replied. Silently, he watched as the strange procession mounted the staircase, while Brother Enoch slowly walked inside the library, talking to Jocelyn. Feeling slightly disappointed and still horrified at the prospect of stopping Lancelot, Simon followed them up the stairs, the book he had been looking through lying dejected on the floor. A few moments later he came rushing back the staircase, a misericord hanging at his hips. Pulling on a leather vest, he sprinted out of the Institute and let the door shut behind him with a bang.

Isabelle shivered a little, the park bench that she was sitting on cold and stony. Glancing around, she tried to spot someone but when no one she seemed to recognise was visible, Isabelle leaned back against the cold backrest and nervously tapped her fingers on the stone armrests. Suddenly a voice whispered into her ear and surprised by the speaker's suddenness, she quickly turned around, ready to punch out.

It was Lancelot.

"Isabelle, my beautiful raven-haired Shadowhunter, have you brought me the information I wait for?" he breathed, brushing back the hair of her neck. Freezing in her languid position, she nodded slowly, her eyes immediately becoming blank and unmoving. Smirking a little, Lancelot gracefully sung himself over the park bench and sat down beside her, an arm draped around Isabelle's shoulders. As if taking this for a sign to continue, she began to speak, still staring straight on ahead.

"Jace searching for cure . . . Silent Brothers working . . . The kidnapping failed and-"

" _Isabelle?"_ hissed Simon in a deadly calm voice, who had been making his way through the park towards her apartment. Seeing Lancelot and Isabelle sitting together, he had crept up behind them, listening in on their conversation, his heart pounding faster and faster as he listened to them. Now his stomach was cold and his heart had begun to beat normally. At the sound of his voice, Isabelle immediately turned around and a smile spread across her face.

"Simon! What are you doing here?" she asked in genuine surprise while Lancelot watched with amusement, his arm still around Isabelle. Slowly getting up, he leaped over the bench, landing in front of them and glaring at her, no trace of the loving boyfriend he was.

"Don't even try to fool me; you already have and not only me. Jace, Clary, Jocelyn, Magnus, even Alec, your own brother. I would've accepted that you didn't love me, that you found a very soon-to-be Greater Demon far more attractive than me. But now that I know you betrayed us at the Institute, I can't forgive you." For a moment he stood still and Isabelle felt the weight of his words settle down on her as if she was being crushed. Tears sprang to her eyes and Lancelot's grip on her tightened painfully, but she held back the tears, too ashamed to look Simon in the face. Like waking from a dream, she now realised everything that she had been doing, which before had seemed to be something distant and blurred, not about her but as she glanced down at the park path, Isabelle understood that she had betrayed them. Suddenly, Simon lunged out with his misericord, aiming for the place where Lancelot's heart was but he had aimed a fraction too far to the left and as the blade collided with stone, Lancelot rolled off from the bench and sprang to his feet a metre away. His eyes were glowing brightly and the circle of red fire was even more intense than before.

"Isabelle," he spoke, his voice a deadly whisper. Despite his quick reaction, Lancelot made no attempt to attack Simon; instead he was calmly standing and watching with his hands in his pockets as if unconcerned by the misericord in Simon's hand. "I believe we had a contract. Kill him." These last words were the only portrayal of how angry he was. They were spoken with such a deep loathing, such hatred that Simon paused in his tracks. Also he was waiting to see what Isabelle would do and it was no surprise when she pulled out her electrum whip and . . . made to stand beside Simon, raising a hand to place on his shoulder before slowly lowering it again seeing the look on his face. Instead, she crossed her arms and raised a defiant eyebrow in Lancelot's direction.

"Our contract said that I give you information, nothing else. I haven't lied to you so there's no reason why I'd kill Simon," she said calmly, the hand holding the whip shaking slightly. Lancelot stared at her and for a moment Simon and Isabelle thought that he would give up. Instead he threw back his head and laughed. "You're smart you know. Smarter than your boyfriend," he added, not even glancing at Simon. And then they stood there in silence, waiting for the other to make a move while the mundanes blindly walked around them, not suspecting that two Shadowhunters were trying to battle a possible Greater Demon.

Without a glance in her direction, Simon lunged at him again and this time he managed to hit Lancelot in the shoulder before he was dealt a blow to the head. Isabelle saw him fall but she was distracted by the sudden pain in her shoulder and clamping a hand down on it, she was shocked to see a pool of bright red blood slowly spreading across her shirt. Realising straight away what was happening, she looked around for Simon; he was pinning Lancelot to the ground, the misericord above his throat. Her heart beating faster than ever as she ran up to him, her whip hanging loosely by her side.

"Simon, stop! Stop!" she yelled, grabbing hold of his hand and trying to wrestle the misericord away from him. Infuriated even more, Simon shoved her out of the way and quickly plunged the misericord down, hitting Lancelot in the side as he tried to push Simon off him. Isabelle gasped, fire spreading through her entire body as a hole opened in her side. Hearing her gasp, Simon glanced up and at the sight of her bleeding, he immediately jumped off Lancelot, who was still smiling even though he was bleeding from the side of his mouth. Isabelle felt her knees turn to jelly as she fell to the ground, scraping her elbows on the concrete.

"You might have killed me, Shadowhunter, but doing so, you have also killed one of yours," murmured Lancelot and with that, he vanished, like all dead demons. The last thing she was aware of was Simon picking her up and running out of the park, before she fell into darkness . . .

For a moment, Isabelle thought she was dead, it was that dark. Then she realised that her eyes were closed. Opening her eyes, Isabelle found herself lying in the Infirmary, tucked so firmly that when she tried to, she couldn't even lift a finger. All around her there were voices but she couldn't see anyone beside her. Closing her eyes again, she listened to them speaking.

" _So now Lancelot is dead?"_

" _Yes."_

" _What about the Lightwood girl? They told me that Lancelot had made her sign a demon contract which bound them? But how was she able to defy him?"_

" _I don't know."_

" _Does the Clave need to be alerted?"_

" _We will see, Brother Henry."_

Suddenly the sound of banging doors interrupted the long lull in the conversation. Opening one eye, Isabelle saw Simon charging down to her bed and running up to wherever Brother Enoch was standing. Shutting her eyes quickly, Isabelle had an instant flashback of Simon at the park, how his gentle face had become a thundercloud of jealousy and anger. Her heart beating faster than before, Isabelle listened to him talking.

"Is she dead?" he exclaimed, the note of panic in his voice evident.

" _It is hard to say but if Lancelot is dead, like you say, then I would think so."_

Not wanting to hear Simon's reaction, Isabelle promptly sat up and smiled cheerfully, struggling against the restricting blanket. The Silent Brothers were standing at the foot of her bed and Simon was anxiously pacing back and forth. Seeing his face, Isabelle felt her heart fill with sadness. Instead of the delighted smile she had been hoping for, he was staring at her with dismay (he had every reason to do so but she couldn't help but hope).

"You really thought I was dead?" she asked, trying to sound cheerful. The Silent Brothers stood quietly at the foot of her bed while Simon's face changed from dismay to anger, turning a dark shade of red.

"Isabelle, I . . . I," he began quietly, breaking off suddenly and leaving the Infirmary. Her heart feeling heavy, Isabelle continued smiling and turned her attention to Brother Enoch. "Is the Clave having a meeting?" she asked casually, wincing a little at the faint pain in her shoulder.

" _No. The others want to talk first."_ answered Henry. Isabelle still wasn't used to his relatively normal voice. "Where are they?" she asked, forgetting to look cheerful now that Simon wasn't there any more. " _Clary is upstairs. The baby is developing too fast for her. Jace, Alec and Magnus are waiting for you outside."_ With a wave of his hand, Brother Enoch silently moved towards the doorway, while Henry followed, the unusual pitter-patter of his feet on the floor ringing in Isabelle's ears.

A few moments later the Infirmary door opened and Jace, Alec and Magnus quickly sat down by her bedside. For an instance, they all sat in silence and then suddenly, before she could stop herself, Isabelle began apologising, right at the exact moment when Jace began to speak.

"I'm really, really s-"

"Why did you do-"

Feeling herself blush, Isabelle made a small hand gesture and waited for Jace to continue speaking. Alec was sitting with his head down, not even looking at her while Magnus had his arm around Alec, staring at her with his amber cat eyes, his hair messed up completely. Jace looked even worse than he had before, the dark rings under his eyes more visible than ever, the small blonde stubble on his chin growing quickly now that he wasn't shaving. Clary must be really bad if he couldn't bother to shave. "So, um, why did you do it, Izzy? Did Lancelot force you?" he asked,obviously holding himself back. Without looking at him, she slowly replied, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.

"I-I signed a demon contract that he gave to me in my coma, so that I could wake up in exchange for information. While I was signing it, Lancelot had some sort of control over me, until the moment in the park. I know I've made the wrong decisions and I'd understand if you don't want to forgive me." She paused, feeling her voice catch. For a moment the silence resumed. Magnus broke it.

"And now Lancelot is dead? Do we tell the Clave?" asked Magnus, running his hand through his hair distractedly. This was one of the rare moments when the warlock let his guard down and opened up to them. Isabelle shrugged. "I'm not sure. But if we're bound, then I would've died, right? So maybe he _isn't_ dead, just trying to surprise attack us?" she ventured, trying to ignore Jace's indifference. Alec sat up straight and smiled slightly, nodding vigorously.

"She's right. We need to catch him before the full moon, which is this Friday. Any ideas how we're going to track him down? If he isn't dead."

After they all shook their heads, Alec quickly told them his plan. It was simple really, but Isabelle still felt nervous at the thought of it. A lot could go wrong. Feeling ready for anything, Isabelle jumped up from her bed, falling back onto the bed as the pain in her bandaged shoulder re-awakened. "I'm sure I'll be ready by Friday," she muttered, wincing a little. Alec jumped out of his seat, glad to be back to normal. Or as normal as the situation could be. "Well, good. I'll go talk to Jocelyn," he began, starting to make his way towards the door. Suddenly Jace glanced up.

"Don't tell Clary," he said, his voice neutral.

For a second, Alec stood there, silently regarding Jace, before nodding quickly and leaving the Infirmary.

"I'll go check on her," muttered Jace, following Alec out the door. No longer feeling the need to keep up the cheerfulness, Isabelle groaned quietly before leaning back down onto the pillows and closing her eyes. For maybe a minute, they remained silent but eventually she sat back up, rubbing her temples, trying to get rid of her pounding headache.

"Magnus, tell me how to make it up to him!" she moaned glumly.

"Who are you talking about?" he asked casually, his tone light as he lazily examined his nails even though he perfectly knew what she meant by 'him'.

"Magnus, I'm being serious," she snapped, not in the mood for his games. "Well, you did hurt Simon pretty bad . . . _and not just him you know_ ," he added, dropping the cheerful voice. Isabelle shivered a little at his unnerving cat-eye gaze. "Perhaps you should leave him for a while until things. . . cool off." And with that he left the Infirmary, and as Magnus shut the door behind him, he quietly added : "Maybe he blames himself."

Unable to hold back any longer, Isabelle fell forward onto the bed and buried her face in the covers, muffling her crying.


	8. Chapter 7

**Two Months Later**

The pain was almost unbearable. But Jace had insisted on at least three _iratzes_ and at this rate, she might ask or a fourth. Another thing that was really frustrating was that now that Catarina was dead, they had to get another warlock. That meant Magnus, who was quite hyper and excited at moment as he quickly pushed her trolley down the hospital corridor, his eyes gleaming as they pushed past the mundanes who thankfully couldn't see them.

On her left was Jace, his hair ruffled and his golden eyes bloodshot and on her right were Jocelyn and Luke, clasping her arm while Jace gripped her hand tightly. Maybe that was part of the pain, she wasn't sure, it was all starting to blur into one. As it began to grow, she heard Magnus' voice, all excited and disturbingly happy: " _Now, it's coming Clary, so just hold on. And remember; Merry Christmas!"_

 _She was sitting in a garden, surrounded by flowers; daisies, forget-me-nots, tulips and roses. Clary even had a rose in her hair. The sky was a bright blue colour and there wasn't any sign of clouds and there was a smell of sweet perfume in the air. Just as she was about to get up and leave, Clary heard a small voice call out "Mama!"_

 _Turning on her heel, she saw a small girl, with short golden hair and silver eyes, running up to her reaching out for her. As if seeing herself from the side, Clary watched herself pick up the little girl and hug her tightly. "Oh Roxy, I've missed you so much! Where's daddy?" she asked joyfully, ruffling the girl's hair affectionately. Roxy grinned and shrugged innocently. "Oh, I don't know," she replied just as Jace appeared in front of them, smirking widely. "I'm right here," he called, picking up both Roxy and Clary and squeezing them both tightly. The girl quickly squirmed out of his grip and tiptoed away, a smirk identical to Jace's on her face, her eyes a brilliant golden colour now._

" _I still can't understand how you got the idea for the name Roxelle, but it's beautiful, just like our daughter," he murmured, still holding Clary in the air. "I'm that kind of genius," she replied, draping her arms over his neck. He growled quietly, sounding like a dog and she couldn't help but throw back her head and laugh._

 _Suddenly she felt his hot lips press against her neck, like little embers, the heat going up her throat and across her jawline until he finally found her mouth and when he did, it felt like an explosion. Clary tasted sweetness, wine and fire, Jace's lips soft and passionate on hers. Feeling like she had no control, Clary gently nipped at his lower, lip, gently running her hand under his shirt and pressing it down onto his abs. Then he broke away. "Are we going to have sex?" he asked cheerfully, his eyes sparkling playfully. She firmly shook her head. "No, I've got to spend time with Roxy as well you know, plus, I haven't seen Aylwin yet," Clary answered, managing to pull herself to the floor, now firmly standing there, pretending to tell him off. He raised an eyebrow._

" _What about later?"_

" _Maybe."_

" _Promise?"_

" _Fine."_

 _Then she found herself kneeling over, her head pounding. And Jace's voice in her ear, urgent and worried._

" _Clary wake up, wake up . . ."_

"Clary, wake up! Please wake up!" Jace was practically shouting by the time she managed to unstick her eyelids. "Where am I?" she asked, the bright light disorientating her for a moment. Suddenly Magnus appeared beside her, a cheerful grin on his face and his hair extremely unruly. "In the hospital. The baby's here, I'll just go get it off Jocelyn. And Brother Enoch's here too, to perform the ceremony," he added, disappearing out her vision before quickly reappearing again, holding a small crying bundle in his hands. As she took the baby in her arms, Clary couldn't help but feel extremely protective of this precious bundle that she held in her hands and that she and Jace were now entirely responsible for it's safety. "Is it a girl?" she asked, showing it to Jace who stared at it with starry eyes, gently taking hold of it. "Yes it is. What are you guys gonna call her?" asked Jocelyn, sitting down on the bed beside Clary. Jace glanced at Clary, who watched him as he lovingly rocked the baby to and fro, her cries silenced and replaced by happy gurgling. "I think Clary should decide on the girl names. Do you have any ideas?" he asked, handing the girl back to Clary, who couldn't help but sigh with relief now that she was holding the baby again.

"Roxelle would suit her. What do you think Jace?"

He smiled happily, placing an arm around her shoulder. "Roxelle sounds beautiful."

 _New York Institute, December 31st._

The Institute was full of light and warmth as they all gathered in the living room, eager to open the gifts that lay under the enormous Christmas tree that Magnus had somehow managed to bring in without alerting the pedestrians and mundane police. The loudest person was Roxelle, and she wasn't even talking. Mostly gurgling and screaming and laughing as she played with Aylwin, who had an amazing knack for finding where she hid every time. Clary watched as she crawled around on the floor, no traces of the protective ceremony that had happened straight after her birth. They were all just waiting for Magnus; Jace was just about to go see where he was when the doors flew open and in walked Magnus, carrying a small bundle in his hands. As he drew closer, Clary could see that the bundle wasn't a bundle; it was actually a very small, very white baby tiger, with small wings growing out it's back, covering it up.

"What is it?" Jace asked him, moving closer to get a look. Suddenly the tiger sprang into action, jumping out of Magnus' hands and onto Jace, licking him all over, frantically flapping it's beautiful purpley-black wings. "Yeah Magnus, what is it?" asked Clary, picking up Roxelle, who had managed to turn herself over and was now yelling for someone to lift her up.

He grinned widely before placing the tiger on the ground, where it immediately stood up and began to sniff the couch.

"I managed to find a dealer for magic animals. This, my friends, is the Amethyst Tiger, a mix of the snow tiger and the rare amethyst bird. I've made it view Roxy as a friend and there lives are linked together, so Amethyst's job is to protect her, as well be a friend. Can we try out my theory?" he asked, gesturing for Clary to put Roxelle on the floor next to Amethyst, which she did, very cautiously. The entire room watched with bated breath as the tiger saw Roxelle, and rushed towards her. For a moment it just stood there, sniffing her before gently starting to lick the baby, it's blue eyes playful and happy. Roxelle gushed with excitement and reached out to touch the tiger's soft fur, gurgling happily.

Clary released a sigh which she had been unconsciously holding; everything was fine. Now she sat back down on the couch and watched the two babies play together, their lives linked forever.

 **The End**


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